


The Sidelines

by RedRidingStiles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, College Hockey, Drug Use, Enemies to Lovers, Epilogue, Fights, Frat Boy Harry Styles, Frat Boy Liam, Frat Boy Niall, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Hockey Fights, Light Bondage, M/M, Oblivious Harry, Pining Louis, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sad Louis Tomlinson, Sexual Violence, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Top Harry, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unsafe Sex, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 47,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRidingStiles/pseuds/RedRidingStiles
Summary: "Alright, I know you guys are the best of friends but I'd like you to do this for the rest of the team,” Cowell says, making the rest of the team snicker. "So I want both of you to compliment each other.""I hate your trainers. I mean that in the nicest way possible. They're very...yellow," Louis says, arms crossed as he offers a fake close-lipped grin."It's really nice of you to blow anyone you find slightly attractive," Harry replies, a sickening sweet smile on his lips."Thank you, children, let me remind you this is a college hockey team. Try again," Coach says, completely unamused.Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 38
Kudos: 731





	The Sidelines

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in like 2015 and never published it but I finally edited it so here you go, hope you enjoy!

The sidelines are literally the worst place to be. Harry would rather be hanging from a wooden post while being set on fire than sitting here gritting down on his mouthguard while he wrings his hands in his lap. They're losing by a fucking lot, and there's still eleven minutes left in the game, but Zayn is visibly getting more and more exhausted from blocking opposing goal after goal.

Andy and Louis are passing the puck back and forth, trying to get around the other team's defense when a center comes out of nowhere and shoulders Andy to the floor. The whistle blows but Andy is already up and tackling the defender, his gloves flying off as he punches the guy in the face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry curses over the roar of the crowd, the ref's whistle ringing in his ear loud enough to split his temples. His hands are resting on his padded thighs like he's about to stand up and break up this fucking pitiful brawl himself, but Coach's watchful eye is glueing him to the bench.

When the refs finally do break it up they both get five minutes in the box for fighting, the defender getting an extra two for the shoulder.

"God dammit. Arthur!" Coach calls, beckoning for him to stand. Harry growls and lifts his mouth guard to his mouth, chewing vigorously. He can't sit here and watch his team bring itself down; it's making him tremble. But he knows why he's not the one being called up, that he's more likely to take Louis out than anyone on the opposing team. He needs to get out there and fucking help save their arses though, it's one to three and if they don't score in the next nine minutes they aren't going to move on to sectionals.

He's actually beginning to feel panic settling in his gut. James is alright, and he just might be able to dig them out of this, but Louis' fucking useless at this point and Harry cannot watch this anymore.

"Coach!" He shouts, just loud enough to get Cowell to whip his head slightly in Harry's direction, to let him know he's listening but still keep his eyes on the game. "Coach, please, I gotta-put me in for Louis, I can-"

He's already shaking his head.

"You're not taking right, Styles, you know that's too risky," He says, in the tone that means no amount of persuasion will make him change his mind.

"Put me in, coach, we're getting killed." Harry pleads, gripping his stick hard in his gloved hand. He watches Niall miss the puck by a centimeter as it slowly skids uncomfortably close to their goal. Cowell gives him a hard look, watching Zayn barely block a shot before shifting heavily.

"If you so much as look at Tomlinson wrong, I pull you out." Couch threatens. The intense wave of relief that washes over Harry is nearly enough to make him pass out, and he shoves his mouthguard back between his teeth and stands up. Coach claps him on the back as he approaches the sideline.

"Seriously. Your only goal is to get that fucking puck into the net. One controversial move and I swear to God I will bench you both for the rest of the game. Now win this for me, Styles." Harry nods, his face set in determination as Cowell calls James off the ice, and Harry is itching to get out there himself.

James offers him a brief thumbs up as he steps onto the ice, stick tight in his hand. He skates out as soon as he's clear to go, aggressively taking his place. He's desperate to get to that puck, and he feels Tomlinson glaring at the side of his head, but he hasn't got time for that bullshit, so he keeps his eyes away.

As soon as the whistle goes off Harry is skating toward the puck, effortlessly taking it from the opposing team's center, skating down the rink, avoiding the other team and Louis as best he can as he makes his way towards the other team's goal and takes the first open shot.

He scores.

-

He manages another somewhere around the two-minute mark, and he's so high on it he can hardly breathe, but Coach is quick to remind him that they're only tied when he calls their last allotted time out and he'll be damned if either of them let it go into overtime. He's so fucking in the zone that as the thirty-second mark comes up, he makes a pass to Liam as he and Niall get cornered by three guys, only to see Liam trying to get around his own guy. He swears to himself as he barrels his way through the human line trying to block him in, skating as fast as he can to the puck, his stick already in position to make the winning shot with seconds left to spare. Only, of course, to get knocked on his arse and have his shot taken by his own fucking teammate.

"Fucking _what_ the fuck was fucking that?" Harry calls out through his mask, words muffled by his guard.

The last second is signalled by a loud buzzer, the commentator shouting something about how Louis fucking Tomlinson was the one to do this, that he's the reason they're going to sectionals. Harry barely has enough sense to scramble up off his arse and watch his teammates tackle Louis in a rough hug as he triumphantly skates off the ice. Harry's about to go shove his skate up the short little prick’s arse when there are suddenly hands grabbing on to both of his arms.

"Mate, don't,” is all Niall says, Liam on Harry's other side giving him a half-apologetic look.

"No, that's bullshit, you know that's bullshit. Fuck, there's probably _scouts_ here, he's gonna get interviewed and shit, I _can't_ \- fucking-," Harry stops when he feels a few pathetic tears pricking at his eyes. He should be happy, because their season could've been over but they _won_.

Instead he's just pissed, and he hates Louis Tomlinson with every fucking bone in his body.

"And they probably saw what an asshole move that was, it's alright, H," Liam soothes, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulder. Harry inhales deeply and nods, but his teeth are still clenched. He watches Cowell pull Louis away from the team, his arms crossed over his chest and a disappointed look on his face.

"Whatever," Harry mutters, tearing his eyes away from the conversation and turning to Niall and Liam. "We going out tonight?"

"Party at the Alpha's tonight if you're up for it,” Niall shrugs.

"Dunno. Might be late, I think Grimshaw's coming over," Harry says, fiddling with his helmet. They're on the way to the locker rooms now, the rest of the team whooping and hollering. Niall snickers into his hand.

"Did you hear him call out Tommo's height? ' _And the forward all the way from Doncaster UK, a whole two feet and four inches tall, Louis Tomlinson_!'" Niall mimics, making Liam laugh into his hand and Harry smirk.

"I thought you liked him," Harry chuckles, ripping the padding off of his arms as soon as he's pushed open the locker room door.

"He's a nice bloke, doesn't mean I can't take the piss out of him to cheer my best mate up," Niall states. Harry smiles, punching Niall lightly on the arm before stripping his jersey and shaking out his sweaty curls.

If he makes the obvious comment in his head that Louis is in fact the least nice person he's ever met, no one has to know.

-

Harry's had two mixed drinks, five shots, and a Snapback placed on his head by Niall when he sees Louis at the party for the first time. He got here earlier than planned (Nick blew him off, which isn't unusual in any context), and that means he's been drinking longer, which means he's bound to do or say something stupid. It doesn't help Louis is being his obnoxiously loud and prick-y self, bragging loudly about making the winning shot. Harry fiddles with a button on his flannel and credits himself for at least trying really, really hard not to open his mouth.

"A few scouts were talking to me after the game, been practically throwing offers at me," Louis informs the group of six or seven around him. Harry knows it's probably not true, because winning shot or no, Louis still played a pretty shit game. He finds himself trailing off whatever he was saying to Liam in order to tune into Louis' ridiculous boasting and scowl.

"I already know I'm going to be captain next year, they'll be begging me to join their teams,” Louis continues, making Harry snort into his cup as he takes a drink. Liam gives him a tired look, but he's too drunk for that to stop him.

"Bull _shit_ , Tomlinson, you're gonna have to work on taking your own shots first," He snorts loudly.

"Not my fault all you're good at is falling on your arse, Styles," Louis calls back, rolling his eyes.

"Harry," Liam sighs. Even he knows it’s useless at this point.

"Is that why Coach put me in to save _your_ arse?" Harry snaps.

"He put you in so you'd get off your knees and stop begging him,” Louis bites back.

"As if you know anything about getting off your knees," Harry retorts, earning a round of 'oohs'. Louis narrows his eyes and takes a step closer to Harry. Harry rolls his eyes, squaring his broad shoulders as Liam glares between the two of them.

"Please stop," Liam pleads, watching the two of them step closer to each other.

Louis snorts, ignoring Liam's pleas.

"Coming from someone who can barely get Nick fucking Grimshaw to take them home," 

"I'm a bit afraid of what you might have gave him to be honest." Harry replies, crossing his arms over his chest. Louis pushes his chest out and sets his drink down, and Harry's still got a good three inches on him (that doesn't include his quiff). Their bickering dissolves into unintelligible insults, both of them shouting over the pumping music at the same time. That is, until Liam shoves the two of them apart with a scowl etched onto his face.

"That's enough. You two are fucking ridiculous, and you both have extra drills at practice tomorrow," He snaps. Harry and Louis both glare at each other before storming off in different directions.

"Dude," Liam sighs as soon as Louis' out of earshot.

"What?" Harry snaps, his eyes still hard and his expression closed off.

"You've gotta cut this shit out. Seriously, why do you hate each other so much anyway-"

"You _saw_ what he did out on the ice-"

"No, in the first place. What'd he do?" Liam asks, eyes curious. Harry huffs, his eyes looking over Liam's head as he speaks.

"He's just a douche, alright?" He answers, picking up his drink and taking a long swig. The room feels too hot, like he needs to step outside and clear his head. He wishes he had something to smoke.

"Can you please try not to fight with him? We're so close to the championships and two of our best players can not be at each other throats." Liam sighs.

"I hate him," Harry says unnecessarily, pouting.

"That's obvious," Liam snorts.

"I think I need some air. I might turn in early, actually, tell Niall I don't want to hear him fucking tonight and not to bring anyone back to his room or else I'll tell everyone about his James Van Der Beek obsession," Harry says. Liam nods with a sigh, waving to Harry as he walks away.

He takes a can of cheap beer to go, stumbling out of the ASP house and towards his own. Harry has been in Sigma Pi since his freshman year at Penn State, Niall convincing him to join so they could go to all the parties and so Niall could meet sorority sisters. Harry had been apprehensive at first, but there's really never any saying no to Niall. It's like kicking a puppy. Now though, he doesn't regret it a bit, because he's met some of his best mates through the house and through hockey. When he opens the front door the house is dead silent, everyone either at the party or asleep in bed already.

He shuffles into the kitchen to make some coffee and chugs down a bottle of water in the meantime, desperately digging around for a lone cigarette someone may have left. Liam keeps fancy ones in a drawer under the sink, but he's recently moved his hiding place since he found out the boys in the house were picking from his stash. Harry's really not much of a smoker, but he's itching for it right now, and he blames it on the alcohol. When he finally finds one in the silverware drawer he grabs a lighter and lights it up, taking a drag and exhales as he leans against the counter.

The coffee machines does its obnoxious beep thing, and Harry probably bangs around to get a cup more than he realizes, because someone flicks the hallway light on.

"You are so fucking loud Styles honestly," Andy grumbles, only in a pair of boxers. He goes over to Harry and steals the cup out of his hand, taking a sip.

"What could you possibly mean by that?" Harry says, pouting as he makes grabby hands at his coffee and sticks his cigarette back between his lips.

"Means I can hear you moaning about Tommo as you wank every night," Andy replies, keeping the coffee. Harry scoffs, eyes widening in drunken shock.

"I _am...disgusted_. I think of him when I want my dick to go _down_ ," He hisses, like Louis himself might hear him if he talks too loud.

"Whatever mate, thanks for the coffee," Andy nods, shuffling out of the room. Harry huffs and takes a long drag of his cigarette, ashes gathered at the tip almost comically from the neglect. He sighs and drops it into an old, half-full mug left on the counter by one of his brothers before rummaging around for another clean one. He doesn't bother with cream and sugar this time as he dumps the remainder of the coffee into it and stumbles upstairs, chugging it down quickly so he doesn't taste the bitterness going down.

He crawls into bed after stripping down, his head hitting the pillow with a thump. His mattress is lumpy and smells like come, but he's mostly sated anyway. Mostly.

-

Harry walks into the locker room the next day with a slight hangover and a groaning Niall. His bag feels heavier than usual on his shoulder and he's so tired, courtesy of Andy waking him up at arse o'clock by throwing an inflatable sex doll at his bed. He drops his bag onto the ground and begins to strip, only getting his shirt off before Cowell comes in.

"Don't bother, boys. I want you to come out here and sit down. We're gonna have a chat," He says, a firm scowl set on his face. Harry's eyes flare, and he can't help the bad feeling that settles in his stomach at Coach's foul expression. Harry and Niall follow their teammates to where Cowell is, all of them taking a seat in front of their coach. Harry tugs his sleeves over his palms, and taps his sneakers on the floor, mouth slightly dry and the rest of his teammates filter in to sit.

"What makes a team, boys?" Cowell asks, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks over everyone. Harry glares as Louis stumbles in, late, as per usual.

"Tomlinson, nice of you to join us. Would you like to answer my question? What makes a team?" Cowell says, his eyes on Louis.

"Uh," Louis says, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights as he slowly lets his bag drop from his shoulder.

"Sportsmanship," Harry butts in with an exaggerated cough. His team snickers. Cowell does not.

"The people on the team, the harmony they have with each other. Your teammates are your family,” Cowell states, his mouth set in a disappointed frown as he speaks. "I don't think you guys realize how much I know. It's come to my attention, and not for the first time, that not all of you agree with each other."

Harry resolutely avoids eye contact with any of the heads turning towards him and the bane of his existence.

"We've made it to sectionals by a hair, everyone needs to get their shit together and start acting like a goddamn family before I start cutting people from this team. I don't care how good you are or your position. You will be gone."

He let's them sit with that promise hanging over their heads before continuing.

"That being said, I want to show you all an example of a good team relationship. Any volunteers?" He barely pauses for a second before he flicks his thumb over his shoulder. "Right, Styles, Tommo, get up here."

Both of their heads snap to look at each other, glaring.

"Coach, it's-we get it, it's fine really," Louis says, chuckling almost like he's nervous.

"Now," Cowell demands. Louis' friend and their leading goalie, Zayn, pushes him forward as Niall does the same to Harry.

Harry nearly trips over the bleachers more than once on his way down, tugging his beanie hard over his ears as he shuffles towards Coach. Louis kicks Zayn in the shins as he gets up, standing on the other side of Cowell with a stupid pout on his face.

Harry glowers at his snickering teammates. Even fucking Niall is turning beet red with his lips twisted in an ugly smile as he tries to hold back his laughter.

"Alright, I know you guys are the best of friends but I'd like you to do this for the rest of the team,” Cowell says, making the rest of the team snicker. "So I want both of you to compliment each other."

"I hate your trainers. I mean that in the nicest way possible. They're very... _yellow_ ," Louis says, arms crossed as he offers a fake close-lipped grin.

"It's really nice of you to blow anyone you find slightly attractive," Harry replies, a sickening sweet smile on his lips.

"Thank you, children, let me remind you this is a _college_ hockey team. Try again," Coach says, completely unamused.

"Your hair looks nice, doesn't look like you just had some guy shoving your face into a pillow while he-"

"Styles that's enough,” Cowell booms, cutting Harry off harshly, Harry snapped his mouth shut but Louis seemed to not be quite finished.

"I see you've had your monthly shampooing, so. That's nice, I guess," Louis quips.

"Alright, both of you get your skates on and get on the ice. Liam and Andy, you'll face them," Cowell snaps.

He turns back to the two of them, speaking quietly so only they can hear.

"I want ten goals. You two are a team, and every time you score, you best goddamn look like you're working together, or you start again at zero. I hope you know you're costing and disappointing your entire team with every dirty look you give one another. Sectionals are in a week, and I'll be damned if I can't have you both on the ice because of whatever bullshit unresolved conflict. I'm not asking you to be friends, I'm asking you to fill your fucking spot on this team, or I'll find someone else to do it for you. That includes getting along enough to play the sport. We are getting nowhere in the championship at this rate, and it's because of you two. You are _not_ irreplaceable."

Harry and Louis both look at their feet as they nod in understanding, muttering a 'Yes coach,' before heading to the locker room. Louis huffs exaggeratedly as he strips off his clothes and throws them roughly against the lockers. Harry rolls his eyes at the childish act, pulling off his own clothes and setting them in his locker before getting his gear on.

"This is ridiculous," Louis grumbles, mostly to himself, Harry figures. Harry rolls his eyes again and sits down to fasten his elbow pads, kicking his shoulder pad aside since they don't typically use them during practices. He does consider putting it on, though, because Louis is a riot and will possibly attempt to break his sternum. Louis continues to curse to himself as Harry pulls on his hockey pants, pulling his shin gear and socks over his feet and securing them in place.

The rest of the team filters in shortly after Harry has finished lacing his skates, starting to assemble their own gear, under the assumption that Harry and Louis actually do manage to sort this game out in the allotted practice time. Harry has a feeling Coach will make them play all night if they don't manage to act like a team.

Harry hesitates at the edge of the rink when he wobbles back out, looking to Coach. He snaps his head toward the ice.

"Get out there, Styles, you're already wasting everyone's time," He says bitterly.

Harry nods, shoving his helmet on and skating onto the ice. Liam, Andy, and Louis join him shortly after. He feels his skin heat at the mass of whooping boys on the benches, humiliated like this in front of his whole team. He'll never hear the end of it. He lines up to face off Andy, crouching down and chewing on his mouth guard as he waits for coach to drop the puck.

"I mean it, boys. Resolve this or you're nothing but waterboys during the championship, both of you," He says lowly before tossing the disc in front of them. Harry makes contact first, the puck soaring to the left where Louis is waiting. You'd think it'd be easier to make a goal with no one blocking their shot, but Liam and Andy are talented in both offense and defense, and aggressive as ever. Liam is on Louis in seconds, ramming him into the wall and passing the puck to Andy.

Harry always takes a few seconds to get in the zone, but once he's in, there's no getting him out. He's fucking good, he knows, but it didn't just come naturally. He played field hockey from age five to eleven, started on ice just after he reached year six and never quit. The literal only thing that ever snaps his head out of the game is his intense hatred for Louis, which is ridiculous in itself. He's broken more bones, endured more sprains and fractures than he can count, and even those never quite managed to do the trick.

Harry pushes himself down the rink towards Andy, trying to get close enough to get the puck or at least block his shot. He curses as Andy swipes him out of the way and sends the puck barrelling towards the net. But Louis is suddenly there blocking the shot, ice shavings flying as he comes in fast, the puck skidding down the rink past half court.

Harry hears a distant hollering and Coach shouting colorful words from the sidelines, but it's white noise. He swerves around and moves back toward their goal, nearly taking Liam out at his speed. He sees Andy approaching from his right and Louis from his left. Andy is getting close to him and looks like he's getting ready to ram him into the wall. He makes a decision and passes the puck over to Louis, it gliding across the ice meeting Louis just before the goal. Harry doesn't see Louis make the shot, he's a bit busy getting pushed into the wall but he does hear the other boys go crazy, shouting from the bench.

"That's a penalty in a game, Samuels!" Coach shouts. Harry winces at the soreness in his back as Andy gets off him and tosses him a wink.

"Get your arse over here, Styles!" Louis calls out, Liam and him both waiting at the half court line. Harry rolls his eyes and refrains from snipping anything back as he glides back over to them.

The next few plays go similar, Harry and Louis manage to score three more goals without fighting and are actually a nice team. It's after the sixth goal that everything sort of goes to shit. They don't start fighting, per se, Louis just sort of throws a minor insult Harry's way when he fails to intercept one of Liam's passes, and it sort of pisses him off a little.

"Honestly Styles, have you been knocked in the head too many times, you could have intercepted that easily. Hell, my 11 year-old sister could have,” Louis bickers.

"Oh _fuck_ off, Donny, I've made more goals in this practice than you have since you've been on the team," Harry scoffs on his way back to half court after Liam and Andy had made a goal. Louis skates closer to him, his face inches from Harry's as he speaks, his voice low.

"You're hilarious, Styles, but keep talking like that and I'll-"

"Tomlinson, Styles!" Coach barks. Both of their heads turn to their coach, his expression full of disappointment. "Your goals are gone. Start over."

Even the _team_ groans.

-

By the time they score their tenth goal it's actually their fifty-fourth. Coach let most of the team leave, save for Niall, Zayn, and Liam, who had started whipping pucks at them halfway through their fourth attempt and never really stopped.

When Harry manages to score the final goal Zayn and Niall both throw their sticks at the two before flipping down to lay on the ice.

Coach slow claps from the sideline as the four of them make their way off the ice, Louis and Harry both nearly chucking up their protein shakes from exhaustion.

"Took you six hours but you finally did it boys. Now I want you to shower and then the five of you are going to stay together tonight. I don't care where, but if I hear one of you decides to leave or you even think about fighting, we will have a repeat of today," Cowell says. He sends them off to the locker room with a reminder that their practice days have increased to every day this week in preparation for sectionals.

Harry gets two slaps on the head and Niall tries to shove his stick up his arse before he finally makes it to the shower, Zayn still has Louis in a headlock and is hissing in his ear.

"Hey, you're being unfair," Harry whines as Niall keeps fucking his water temperature with the busted control knob in the corner. He lowers his voice to a hiss when he says, "Remember that girl sophomore year who you hated because she wouldn't stop trying to convince you that you aren't of Irish descent? That's Louis."

"What the fuck did he do to piss you off that much?" Niall ask, letting go of the knob.

"For fuck's sake, Ni, I don't _know_ , but I've got more than enough reasons now," Harry snaps, making a scene of shutting off the shower and snatching his towel from the hook.

"Well now we have to stay with them the rest of the night, and I wanna get shitfaced, so don't fucking fight with him," Niall huffs, following Harry out. Harry stuffs his spidery legs into his joggers, not bothering with boxers. He shakes his wet hair like a dog, hitting Niall with the spray.

"You're such a cunt," Niall grumbles, punching Harry in the arm. Harry dimples innocently, toeing on his yellow trainers and pulling his beanie over his wet hair. Louis comes out of the opposite end of the showers with Zayn and Liam, going to his locker and throwing on his own clothes. Harry's eyes catch on his pecs, but he shakes it off before he even comprehends what he's doing.

"So lads, what are we doing tonight?" Liam asks, clapping his hands together.

"Something involving pot," Niall shouts triumphantly, still half naked.

"I'm in,” Zayn pipes up, pulling on his shoes.

"Weed makes me..." Harry trails off waving his hand vaguely and throwing his hoodie over shoulder.

"Gets him hot," Niall finishes, clapping Harry on the back as he sputters.

"Does the same to Lou," Zayn shrugs, making Louis punch him in the arm.

"First time we got Haz high, he showed me his porn collection and asked if he could suck me off in the bathroom," Niall adds solemnly, miming a tear with his finger.

"Better than Louis, last time we got high he begged me to fuck him, and even after I did he went and blew-"

" _Shut the fuck up Zayn_ ," Louis hisses, cutting Zayn off.

" _Oh_ , this is going to be a show," Niall snickers. "Put your fuckin' shirt on, Styles." Harry hits him with it first before tugging it over his head, fixing his beanie and shoving his hands into his pocket.

"We can kip at me and Lou's apartment. I'm sure it's mediocre to you frats, but we just stocked up, and I have more than one bong," Zayn says, winking. Niall throws his arm around Zayn's shoulder, grinning as they walk out of the locker room.

"I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

-

The night is a fucking disaster. Harry has yet to touch any illegal substance, but the air is so thick with smoke he feels a bit loopy anyway. They're gathered around the TV watching reruns of The Office, playing some sort of drinking game Niall made up ten minutes ago, where they tip back their drinks each time someone stares discontentedly into the camera.

Niall and Liam are tucked under each of Zayn's arms with beers in their laps and joints hanging from their mouths, Louis is in the armchair and, of course, Harry is left with the floor. It does reap the benefit of a whole bottle of cherry Schnapps to himself, however, which leaves him mostly satisfied. The alcohol and smoke do not help the itch under his skin however, his dick is half hard in his pants and he feels about 50 degrees too warm.

"Hey, new drinking game," Niall says, not even slurring even after all that he's drank. Man can hold his liquor. "Take a shot every time Harry subconsciously touches his cock."

"I'd like to not get alcohol poisoning, but thanks,” Louis puts in, the rest of the boys giggling. The air alone can't get him high enough to make awkward suggestions, thank God, but he's definitely feeling it. He lets out a low whine from his spot on the floor, clacking his teeth against the rim of his bottle.

"I bet you five pounds he starts deep throating that bottle," Niall says to Zayn, making Liam snort.

"How much is that in _dollars_ , Ireland?" Zayn snickers, but everyone's eyes still follow Harry's every move. He plucks at his shirt and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, a hot flush crawling up his neck. Why do they all have to be _watching_ him. It's making him even more hot, like he needs to get his cock out and have them all watch him as he jerks off, maybe tell him what to do or-

"Louis do not take off your shirt!" Zayn yells at the boy, breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

"What, it's fucking boiling in here," Louis argues. A piece of fabric lands on Harry's face, and he sputters, shaking it off.

"Keep you fucking trousers on mate or Harry might get in your lap,” Niall states, making Harry pout.

"I wouldn't touch him with a pole longer than your fucking Irish heir line," Harry grumbles, kicking Louis' shirt a whole two feet away. He yanks his beanie off his head and shakes out his slightly sweaty curls, snatches Niall's joint and whips the beanie at his comically offended face. Harry lifts the joint to his lips and inhales deeply. He's got no reason to hold off anymore, not really. He knows he'll be taking a trip to the bathroom and/or offering up his mouth regardless.

He's hit with another article of clothing a minute later, Liam and Zayn both groaning to Louis who is only in his pants now.

"You're kind of a whore," Harry says as he pushes Louis' jeans to the side, smoke curling out from his lips and nostrils as he speaks.

"Looks who's talking,” Louis mutters, giving Harry's lap a pointed look. Harry pouts.

"Hey. Happens," He grumbles, snatching a pillow from under Liam's legs and dropping it on top of his crotch. It's just meant to cover his growing boner, but if he angles it right he can get the subtlest bit of friction.

"Try not to to jizz in your jeans, Styles,” Louis mutters, his eyes on the pillow. Harry makes a garbled noise that he passes as acknowledgment. Someone throws a crumpled beer can at his head.

Harry manages to sit still for all of two minutes before he's pressing the pillow harder down, moving it slowly over his clothed cock. That earns him a collective groan and two more beer cans. He's so hot he can't even feel it.

"Okay, Styles, get a room," Zayn says.

"Point me in the right direction," Harry grumbles, still moving the pillow.

"There's a bathroom, closet, and Louis' room in that hallway over there," Zayn responds, Louis squawking in protest, and Harry's pelted with a handful of chips as a final word of confirmation.

"Cheers," Harry nods, throwing the pillow at Louis' face before grabbing his bottle and making his way to the hall. A round of catcalls follows him down the hall, and he stumbles ungracefully through the first door he sees.

It's Louis' room of course, full of posters of David Beckham and other hot British football players. There's clothes all over the floor and it smells faintly of come and Harry thinks his bed looks like the perfect place to have a wank.

Louis throws open the door not a minute later, whining something about making Harry leave, but he's already flat on his back with a palm over his dick.

"Jesus fucking Christ,” Louis breaths, his eyes wide and a bit panicky when he catches sight of Harry.

"You wanna leave," Harry states without looking at him nor pausing his movements. He's not sane when he's horny.

"It's my room," Louis snips childishly, his arms crossed over his bare chest, his lip pouting out. Harry grunts and tugs his shirt up his abdomen, fingers wiggling under the band of his sweats. It makes his throat dry and his stomach twist, having someone watching him like this. The fact that it's _Louis_ , the absolute bane of his entire existence, should probably change some things, but the urge to put on a show is strong as ever.

"Harry," Louis croaks, his voice cracking. If Harry was in the right mindset he'd realize this is the first time Louis has ever called him by his name, but he's not so he just grabs his cock in his hand and let's out a small moan. He's so hard, cock heavy against his palm, and he forgets for a moment that Louis' even there when he gathers the precome bubbled at his slit and pumps slowly to spread it around, get himself wet.

"Get your fucking pants off,” Louis finally says after watching Harry wank himself for a minute, stepping closer to the bed. Harry's eyes flutter open and he smirks, flicking his thumb under the sensitive head of his cock.

"You're so easy," He slurs, voice slow and syrupy. Louis growls at him, hopping onto the bed and straddling Harry's stomach, pulling the boy's hands up by his head. Harry can't help it, he giggles. There's too much substance in his veins for him to act normally.

Normally, he'd lay flat and just take it, render himself useless under the control of someone else. Actually, _normally_ , under these exact circumstances, he'd shove Louis away and tell him to fuck himself. Now, though, he's chuckling while he wrenches his wrists out of Louis' grip and splays them over his bare chest, flipping him onto his back. Louis glares up at him, his eyes dark with lust and his pupils blown.

"Can I fuck you?" Harry asks. Louis narrows his eyes and cants his hips up to press his cock against Harry's thigh.

"No," Louis answers, fingers curling around the collar of Harry's shirt, which reminds him that the fabric is way too fucking hot against his skin.

"Tosser," Harry grumbles, his mouth on Louis' neck, sucking on the skin absentmindedly.

"Not as easy as you think, huh, Styles?" He taunts, planting a hand on the back of Harry's neck to keep him where he is while he nips roughly at the shell of his ear.

"You're still a slag,” Harry states, his hips grinding against Louis.

"Then you're," Louis grunts, raking his blunt nails down the back of Harry's shirt, "taking advantage."

"You aren't complaining," Harry fights back, his eyes fluttering shut at the sweet friction. Louis hums and foregoes a retort for once, thumbs catching on the hem of Harry's shirt.

"Why are you wearing so many clothes?" Louis grumbles, his eyes on Harry's chest.

"Dunno," Harry responds simply, letting Louis hike his shirt up to his chest as he latches his mouth to his collarbone. Louis inhales sharply as he pulls the shirt up more, trying to get it off the boy without him stopping.

Harry ducks to help him out, only lifting off for the second that it takes to get the collar over his hair before resuming the work in progress blooming angrily on Louis' chest. He's not in the proper state of mind to be shocked that this is happening, that Louis _fucking_ Tomlinson is hard underneath him with two sets of fingernails pressed into his shoulderblades.

"Trousers,” Louis gasps after Harry bites down on his nipple, a moan following it. Harry ignores him, or maybe the words don't register right away, but either way he works his tongue and teeth over Louis' nipple until it's red and puffy.

"Harry," Louis groans, his hand moving up to tug on Harry hair and, okay, fuck. He's done riling Louis up. It's a bit redundant because all Louis does is rile him up in return. He bites his lip and ruts down hard, watching Louis' features scrunch together underneath him. Louis bucks his hips off the mattress, making Harry groan and push back in reply.

"Fuck, I-" Harry starts, cutting himself off and rolling the band of his sweats down his thighs. He's still not wearing pants.

"Shit,”Louis breaths, taking in the sight of Harry's flushed cock. Harry grins and hooks his thumbs on Louis' briefs, yanking them down his thick legs unceremoniously.

When he gets them down past his knees he leans back down to start another love bite on Louis' shoulder, panting as their cocks rub against each other. It's just subtle friction, a bit too dry, a bit too unintentional to feel like anything, but Harry still moans around the patch of skin he's attached his lips to. Louis is tugging on his hair more, not at all gently but Harry really isn't complaining.

"Have you-lube," Harry gasps as one of Louis' hands drops to his waist and pulls him down to drive their hips together, hard.

"Under the bed," Louis mutters, his eyes hooded.

"Fucking stupid place," Harry grumbles as he heaves himself up onto his forearms and ducks his upper body off the side of the bed.

"Fuck off," Louis snorts, a small hand reaching down to grasp Harry's cock just to see him gasp and shudder at the touch. He fumbles for the bottle lying amongst a pile of garbage and a lovely mix of sports and porn magazines. It's almost empty, Harry notes with a halfhearted snort, but there's enough to get the both of them wet.

He knocks Louis' hand out of the way to grab both of them in one hand, moving the lube over their cocks. It's almost kind of endearing the way Louis' body immediately curls into his, his head tipped back and blooming marks exposed on his neck and chest. Harry forgets momentarily that Louis and him don't get along and haven't for three whole years as he jerks them off together. None of that matters, not really, they're both high and drunk and horny. Under these circumstances, any cock would feel right in his hand. Harry jerks them off fast, a wet, dirty sound filling the air along with Louis' breathy pants and Harry's groans of pleasure.

Barely three minutes in Harry's biting his lip white, squeezing and twisting his hand around the two of their cocks until his wrist is sore. He's already about to burst, he comes so quick when he's high and with this annoying fit boy under him it's even worse. He doesn't have to worry about embarrassing himself, though, because Louis' nails are digging into his shoulder blades so hard he has to assume he's close, too.

He keeps making these noises, little 'oh's or breathy curse words, his face blissed out and a flush on his neck and chest. It's slippery and hot and Harry's wrist is starting to cramp, a dull pain shooting up his arm. He tightens his grip anyways, trying to get them both off as fast as he can.

Louis comes first, shuddering as he spurts into Harry's fist and onto his belly. Harry moans as Louis' cock pulses against his own, his own orgasm pushing through him. They're both silent for a minute, breathing heavily as Harry rides out the aftershocks. Harry collapses down next to Louis, still breathing hard with hooded eyes. His skin is tacky with a thin layer of sweat and his hand is sticky with come. He wipes it absentmindedly on Louis' sheets. Louis turns over on to his stomach with a sleepy frown, burying his head into the pillow.

"You're the shittiest lay I've ever had," He mumbles sleepily.

"You're one to talk," Harry grumbles back.

"That orgasm was so weak I literally regret it," Louis continues.

Harry just hums. The wet patch he's currently face down in would probably beg to differ.

-

Louis is pulled out of sleep by his phone buzzing with Instagram likes and comments from some picture Zayn posted on his phone last night. He picks the fucking noise maker up and sees it’s five in the bloody morning, so why are all these people up?

He doesn't think he drank enough to be hungover, nor slept long enough to be completely sober, but he still feels the leftovers of his crashed buzz coursing through him. He hears a faint snoring at his side and fumbles around for the source, fingers landing on a warm bicep. And it's not that he forgot, per se, about his and fucking Harry Styles'... _endeavors_ , but it's a healthy reminder toward his sleep-bleary mind.

He thinks about pushing the boy off the bed and kicking him out of his room, but his mouth is slightly open and his curls are everywhere and God why is he so cute?

Louis curses himself and kicks at the heavy comforter pooled at his feet enough to where he can drag his aching bones out of bed and stumble around for a semi-clean pair of trackies. He pulls on a pair of gray ones, only a small stain on the knee.

"W'ya keep it down," He hears Harry slur just before something soft hits him square in the arse. Louis' pillow is on the ground now, Harry's arm now hanging off the side of the bed where Louis once was.

"Shut the fuck up, mouth breather," Louis grumbles, stumbling in the general direction of the door. Harry makes some noise of protest and waves his hand around as Louis stumbles out the door and down the dark hallway.

Louis' not sure what he expected. His intentions were to get the fuck away from Harry before he let himself jump him again, and maybe make himself a nice cup of tea, but upon his arrival to the living room, he realizes he's actually made a grave mistake. Liam and Niall are passed out on the floor, surrounded by empty beer bottles and a half empty bottle of vodka while Zayn sits quietly on his phone, a spliff between his lips. Louis collapses at his side and snatches the joint straight from his mouth, sucking in a long drag as Zayn whistles lowly and lets his knowing eyes drift to the hallway.

"Shut the fuck up," Louis snaps, blowing the smoke harshly into Zayn's face, only making the boy's grin wider.

"You and Styles, huh?" He presses, much to Louis' discontent. "Could hear you two going at it from fucking Philly, I swear-"

" _Shut up,_ " Louis hisses, his eyes hard as he glares at his best friend. The prick knows about his stupid fucking crush on the clumsy curly haired boy.

"I'm just playing with you, Tommo, he's _dreamy_ ," Zayn snickers.

"I was drunk off my arse that night, do _not_ hold that over me," Louis snarks, he got shitfaced drunk one night and spent fifteen minutes telling Zayn about how dreamy and beautiful and perfect the boy was.

"You're just lucky I overlook all the times I've walked in on you fingering yourself to his yearbook picture," Zayn says, instantly receiving a hard punch to the forearm.

"I hate you,” Louis states, crossing his arms over his chest. It's then that Harry stumbles into the living room, heavy bags under his eyes and hair an unruly mess, clutching an empty glass bottle to his chest.

He has a pair of Louis' sweats on, the bottoms stopping just at his ankles instead of pooling around them like they do on Louis. He looks so bloody adorable Louis has to snap his head away before he says something stupid. He always does this thing, where when Harry looks particularly good, he bites out an insult sooner than he can help it, and there's probably some kind of psychological explanation there, but there's a reason he's majoring in the arts.

"What time is it?" Harry asks, rubbing at his eyes adorably. Niall stirs, swatting blindly at the air.

"Late night, huh?" The Irish lad grumbles sleepily, at the same time Louis says, "Time for you to leave."

Harry rolls his eyes and kicks Liam in the side, making him groan.

"Get up, assholes,” Harry mutters to the two boys on the floor. Niall rolls onto his back, stretching out ridiculously. Louis fiddles with a string as Harry rounds up his boys and shrugs a zip up hoodie over his bare shoulders.

"See you guys at practice," Liam says with a wave, Niall leaning on him heavily. Louis and Zayn murmur their goodbyes, and Zayn has the decency to wait until the door is closed before he zeros in.

"So was he good? Best orgasm of your life, and all that?" Zayn immediately presses.

"I don't want to-"

"Shut the fuck up and tell me Tommo."

Louis buries his head in his arms and kicks weakly, his mouth curling into a frown.

" _He's so fit_ ," He groans pathetically. Zayn pats him on the back and doesn't take the piss out of Louis' misery. Louis loves him for that.

-

Louis' been sort of in and out of everywhere for the majority of his life. He can't stick to anything, places, boys, girls, hobbies, but hockey's something he's managed to hold on to. He has always been the trouble maker, got himself shipped out of England for getting caught one too many times with weed or someone sucking his cock.

In America, things didn't get much better. He spent his final three years of school in some sort of stickler boarding academy, in some snowy northern state he can hardly remember the name of, and the only sports they offered were hockey and American football. And well, Louis couldn't exactly sit around twiddling his thumbs for the minimal remainder of his teenage years.

His English teacher, a thirty-something year-old man with a muscular body and a beautiful jawline held him back one day after class to talk to him. Louis had hoped it was his hot-teacher-fucking-him-over a desk dream finally coming true, but Mr. Lester stopped that thought as soon as he started speaking. He told Louis if he kept up his trouble-making ways that he would be expelled if he didn't get his shit together.

That's when he really started evaluating his life. England isn't big on hockey, as in, he'd only heard of it before he'd moved to the States. The school counselor had suggested an extracurricular or two, to "keep his mind busy". He called bullshit, but then again, getting kicked from two schools in less than a year wasn't exactly ideal. So, steered away from the ever distasteful idea of American football, hockey seemed to be his only option.

But the thing was Louis was really good.

He had never picked up a stick in his life but as soon as he hit the ice it was like he was born to play. And it really did keep him busy; he had practices and games every day and there was no time to corrupt other students or commit petty crimes. His junior year of high school he was at his third game of the season, leading his team to victory 4 to 1 with seconds left on the clock when he got the offer to play for Penn.

He had never thought about college, didn't even plan to go. His records suggested that he couldn't get in if he tried, though he held no interest anyway. But by his senior year he was offered a full ride at several state universities, and the shine in his mother's eyes when he told her had pushed him to accept. His grades had to go up though, he managed to get them up to the bare minimum of what was required and the next fall he was unpacking his new room at Penn.

He and Harry got off on the wrong foot regardless, both of them rather competitive at tryouts. They're polar opposites, but they clashed anyway, both too cocky for their own good.

It didn't help that they both went out for right wing, Cowell immediately noticing the clash between the two freshmen. He had them both try for it and it had set their positions in stone after Cowell saw how hard of a time Harry had with it.

Harry's had it out for him since, and he gets it, sort of. His tiny ounce of a crush just doesn't serve much help for his supposed burning hatred for him.

It was worse freshman year, when they would trip each other and steal clothes out of each other's lockers and play harmful pranks till they were both threatened by their friends with murder.

The thing with Harry is, he's like this all-loving character, always helpful, always defending the people he cares for, and being the exception sort of sucks, especially with the way Louis' heartbeat pounds in his ears whenever Harry touches him, no matter how violent.

Their sophomore year Harry pushed Louis into the wall of the hallway, pointed a finger in his face and started to yell in his face and all Louis could do was snap back at the boy and hide his boner.

And Louis loves retaliating, loves seeing Harry all wound up. His neck turns red and his pupils grow large, cheeks flushed and jaw tight.

Louis can't even be threatened because Harry is just so god damn _cute_.

Louis' headed to practice at arse o'clock, bag carelessly hanging off of his arm and a growing sensation of dread building in his gut. The dull memory of the previous night burns behind his eyes, and he can't even fathom how Harry might act towards him now.

When Louis gets there and throws his gear on the floor half the guys are already done and heading into the rink.

His shoulder pads seem heavier than usual as he slinks onto the ice, chewing nervously on his guard as Cowell's glare burns into the back of his neck. Zayn skates over to his side, giving him a nod of greeting before Cowell starts to speak.

"Fifteen minute warm-up, then we're scrimmaging," He shouts, clapping his hands together and pushing his whistle between his teeth. Liam starts to yell out drills and exercises, shooting pucks to everyone to take a shot. Harry's clearly hungover, movements sluggish and clumsy. Niall is skating circles around the boy, making Harry lift his stick to weakly hit the blond on the head.

Louis has to tear his eyes away when Zayn nudges his shoulder with the butt of his stick, eyebrows raised high. He shakes his head at Zayn's knowing look and takes off to the other side of the rink to retrieve his puck. He's feeling a bit sick, if he's honest, less hungover than just flat out nauseous. He warms up as well as he can in his currently fucked state of mind, but it's far from graceful and far from his best.

When Cowell finally blows the whistle and assigns Liam and Andy to pick teams Louis feels as if he might just hurl all over the ice. Louis hovers behind Zayn, watching almost nervously as Liam and Andy pickily choose awaiting players. Liam picks Niall right away, Andy going for Zayn.

Louis can't decide which would be worse: being Harry's corresponding forward on the same team, or competing against him. He sort of doesn't want to associate with him at all, but in the end they end up on opposing teams. Everyone groans when the realize, a helmet getting chucked in Andy and Liam's direction.

They both shrug in indifference, but Louis catches Liam's brief warning look in both his and Harry's direction.

They huddle together to talk quick, Andy giving Louis a stern look as he talks about not fighting.

Louis doesn't make eye contact with Harry as they position themselves, doesn't actually spare a glance his direction at all.

So it's a bit of a shock when the whistle blows and he almost immediately feels someone knock into as Andy passes him the puck, his side smashing against the wall of the rink.

" _Shit_ ," He curses loudly as pain shoots up his ribs, forcing himself to straighten and flit his eyes around the rink. He has no doubts as to who it was, but he can't fathom why Harry would be so quick to try to piss him off so soon after what they did.

Harry's halfway down the rink, dribbling the puck around everyone he passes before Louis even pushes himself off the wall.

He swears to himself again, using the momentum from the wall to push himself towards the pick, firm scowl on his lips.

Zayn is in the goal thankfully and is able to block the shot Harry tries to make, making Louis able to catch up to the curly haired boy.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" He hisses as he steals the puck, hockey stick wrestling with Harry's violently as they fight for it.

"Stuff it up your ass." Harry snaps back, shouldering Louis out of the way.

Louis' so shocked he nearly wipes out, anger and confusion rising in his chest. He follows after him, coming up on his left and swiping the puck as he moves to take another shot, it taking off towards Jake instead ooF the goal. It's all Louis can do to retaliate the second time Harry shoves him into a wall in his attempts to chase the puck. Sometimes he wishes he was capable of biting his tongue or holding himself back from a fight, but even his ridiculous infatuation with Harry doesn't stop him from maintaining his pride.

Louis skates after Harry as he races to the goal, ramming into his back and stealing the puck.

He's not sure why Cowell has yet to call them out, because by now they've committed about ten penalties. The rest of the team won't even go near the two, letting them fight over the puck.

It's only when Harry literally drops his stick and shoves Louis down onto the ice with huge gloved hands that Coach blows his whistle.

"Both of you, out." Cowell screams, the entire rink going quiet. Louis' face flushes hot all the way to the tips of his ears as he pushes himself to his feet. He doesn't bother looking at Harry as he slowly makes his way off the ice, the eyes of his teammates burning into his back.

Cowell gives them both a murderous look, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm sick of you two, get changed and go. I want both of you here at 5 tomorrow running bleachers till you either drop or throw up, whatever comes first.”

Louis tightens his jaw, nodding curtly and mumbling a, "Got it, Coach," before turning towards the locker room. Out on the ice, no one has resumed the game.

Cowell barks at them to get back to work as Harry storms into the locker room, Louis at his heels.

"Look, I'm not saying this is your fault, but this is really your _f-fuck_ ," Louis hisses as he takes a heavy skate to the shin. Harry doesn't even look to see if Louis is bleeding to death or not, which, rude, he could be seriously injured, and continues to throw off his gear angrily.

"Fuck you, dude," Louis mutters, shaking off his helmet. Harry slams his locker door shut and spins around, pushing Louis in the wall harshly and crowding into his space.

"Have you ever seriously thought about therapy?" Louis manages, though his heartbeat is picking up so quickly he can feel it in his ears. Harry bares his teeth at Louis, his face inches from Louis'.

"I hate you." Harry hisses before colliding his mouth with the other boy's. Louis squeaks, unsure what to do with his hands.

The kiss is bruising and wet, Harry's tongue instantly prying open Louis' mouth. Louis grabs onto Harry's arms after another moment of hesitation, working his own tongue between Harry's lips. He slides down the locker he's pressed against minutely, Harry immediately taking advantage of the leverage and tipping his head back forcefully. Louis moves his hands up around Harry's neck, going on his tippy toes to reach Harry better.

It's over even faster than it started. Harry jerks back and Louis feels cold, his eyes cloudy and lips tingling with sensitivity.

Harry drops his arms to his side and backs away from Louis, glaring for a second before walking out of the room. Louis' still trying to catch his breath, trying to collect the pieces of his brain together. He wonders if Harry was still a bit drunk.

"Fuck," Louis sighs, slipping down onto the ground. He can still feel Harry's spit drying on his mouth.

" _Fuck_ ," He repeats.

-

Harry ends up going to the campus gym for the next few hours, working out till his whole body burns and he is dripping sweat. He can hardly stand long enough to rinse off in the showers by the time he's done, and that's good, because for once not an ounce of his mind is thinking about Louis. He strolls into the front door of the frat house with his bag over his shoulder and his phone in his hand, scrolling through his Instagram feed. He steps towards the stairs, eyes still glued to the screen. He doesn't look up until someone flicks his snapback off of his head.

"Hey," He whines, turning around and grabbing his hat off the ground, glaring at the Irish lad in front of him. It's then that he notices the gaggle of boys gathered in the foyer, comically solemn expressions set on their faces.

"Harry Styles," Niall says. "This is an intervention."

"What the fuck mate?" Harry shakes his head, giving Niall a tired look.

"It's come to our attention that you strongly dislike Louis Tomlinson," Niall emphasizes, obvious that he's trying very hard not to laugh, though Harry is more than unamused.

"Understatement," One of his brothers snorts.

"Ni, while I consider you a dear friend and appreciate your efforts, this is bullshit," Harry says.

"H, you bitch about him every chance you get." Noah, the frat president, states.

"I meant this intervention or whatever, not me hating Louis, you tits. Of course I hate Louis," He scoffs.

"It needs to stop, it's getting out of hand." Andy puts in.

"Right," Harry says slowly, like he's weighing his options, then claps his hands together with false delight. "We can ship him off!"

Everyone in the room groans, two of his older brothers coming over and grabbing him by the arms, dragging him to the couch and pushing him to sit.

"Look, H, you do realize you're jeopardizing our chances in the Championship, right? I can't remember the last time we had a productive practice that didn't revolve around forcing you two to get along," Liam says, collapsing at his side. Harry crosses his arms over his chest, muttering to himself. He _knows_ this thing between Louis and him is ruining the team, but how do you just stop hating someone?

"All we're asking is that you leave your negativity at the door," Liam says in response to silence.

"Easier said than done," Harry grumbles, not looking at anyone in the room.

"Harry, what the fuck do you want me to say? What can I do to convince you? Which do you care more about, your potential career as a professional hockey player or making sure Louis knows you don't like him?" Liam snaps, exasperated. Harry bites his lip, not having anything to say to that.

"Step up, please. Be the bigger person, and for God's sake, try to ignore him," Liam says with finality, his expression now pleading.

"I'll try." Harry replies, his eyes lifting to Liam's face as he nods.

"Yeah, you will," Liam says, voice laced with a threatening undertone, but then just like that, his face softens and he claps Harry gently on his shoulder.

"Please, for the sake of the team, just ignore him,” Liam says gently, squeezing Harry's shoulder. Harry tenses his jaw and nods, wishing it was any fucking easier than Liam makes it sound.

“Right, I'm gonna need this in writing.” Niall states, dropping down on Harry's other side.

“God, fuck off,” Harry scoffs, grinning until Niall actually thrusts a clipboard and pen at him, with an actual fucking document attached.

“Are you fucking with me?” Harry asks in disbelief. Granted, there’s not much to it, a couple of sentences in an ugly font with a line for signature at the bottom.

“No, look, I’ll even read the fine print for you,” Niall offers. “Says, if you violate this contract, you have to move to student housing until the season’s up.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Harry scoffs, honestly a bit hurt that they would throw him out like that.

“C’mon, mate. It’s just, we really need this for the team. Also, you’re going to get yourself in real danger with coach if this keeps up. If you want the chance of becoming a captain next year, or getting drafted in the fucking NHL, you’ve gotta step up. We all love you, man, but we’re serious about this,” Niall explains, heartfelt and genuine. Harry doesn't say anything, just signs the paper with a harsh grip and gets off the couch to head straight for his room.

“H,” Someone calls, but that’s useless. Harry stomps upstairs like a petulant child, already dialing his mom’s number, it’s lunch time in San Francisco so she shouldn't be too busy. He slams the door of his room shut and locks it, waiting for his mom to pick up as he falls onto his bed.

“Hi, baby, everything alright?” Comes her greeting. It makes Harry’s shoulders relax, just hearing her voice.

“Hey mom, just wanted to talk to you.” Harry replies, not wanting to bring his mom into his drama. That’s all it takes for her, launching into an in-depth recap of her week and asking Harry about his and that’s all he needs, really. They talk for well over an hour, Anne telling Harry all about the boy Gemma has been seeing and Robin’s new promotion at work. By the end of it Harry feels a million times better, and he’s the one stalling for conversation, but apparently her and Robin are having a date night and she’s got to go.

“I love you baby, if you need anything you know you can just call.” Anne says warmly.

“Yeah, I know. Hey, you think you could make it to the championship? If we get there?” He asks as an afterthought.

“Of course darling, we wouldn't miss it.” Anne promises. Harry grins, warm at the thought of his family coming to see him play. They have before, of course, but it’s far and few in between what with practically the entire country separating them.

“Bye mom, love you. I'll talk to you soon.” Harry mutters into the phone, sitting up from his spot on the bed.

He shuffles around for his charger once they’ve hung up, taking a swig from the half-empty water bottle on his nightstand. He sighs to himself and plugs his phone in before stripping off his clothes and laying down in bed. Sometimes he hates himself for choosing a school so far from home, and maybe that makes him a bit of a baby, but even a twenty year-old can miss his mom sometimes, he thinks. He sets his alarm for 4:30 in the bloody morning and dreads the next morning already, groaning to himself as he pulls the covers up to his neck and tries to fall asleep.

-

Practice is fucking hell. Harry runs for almost two hours before he has to stumble off to the locker room and chuck up his meager breakfast, resting his head against the cool bathroom wall and reminding himself that he did this to himself. He knows Louis is still out on the bleachers, pretty winded but over all not about to pass out which Harry thinks is unfair. Eventually he slinks back out, not before rinsing his mouth thoroughly and pissing while he can. Louis is in the process of running up the bleachers while taking large gulps from his third water bottle, his tank top drenched in sweat and his shorts hanging low on his hips.

“Have a good cry in the toilet?” He calls as Harry starts up again, but it’s not really mean or bitter, and Harry’s able to grimace and ignore it. He gets back to running, going slower this time because Cowell wouldn't be back to check on them for another hour. It’s just them and the empty arena, heavy breaths echoing off the walls with no other bodies to absorb them.

Harry had plunged in his phone when they started but it had died much quicker than he would have liked, leaving both boy’s with nothing but their own thoughts as they ran. He makes it up and down the whole row six more times before collapsing on the bottom step and trying not to retch again. He hasn’t ran this much since his fucking freshman year conditioning, back when he actually kept a steady workout routine and didn’t drink nearly as much. He didn't understand how Louis was still going at it, how he hadn't stopped yet even though it's been hours.

He shakes his hair out and takes a long drink of water from his jug, muscles aching as he drags himself back up. Harry wants so bad to make a snarky comment, but refrains himself because he likes living in the Sigma Pi house.

He checks the clock on the far wall. Only half hour until coach comes back, and hopefully his punishment is fulfilled. He ties his hair back into a loose bun to get it out of his face, taking a deep breath before starting up again. The only thing driving him at this point is the fact that if he’s not working hard, he’ll be working longer. He's at the point of almost collapsing when Cowell comes through the locker room doors, barking at them to come down to them to get their asses down to the court.

Harry tips his jug back for another long drink on his way down, tempted to upend the entire contents of it over his head, down his back.

“Have a seat boys.” Cowell orders, nodding towards the seats in the front. Harry slowly lowers himself down, calves burning as he sits. Louis sits down a few seats away from him, taking long drinks from his water bottle as he spreads his legs apart and leans back in his seat. Harry stares at the floor, trying to catch his breath and not look at Louis all at once.

“Do you two realise how much shit I have to put up with because of you? Do you know how many conversations I've had with the team and Athletics board about kicking you both out? Do you want to know why you're still sitting here with a jersey number and a pair of skates in a locker?”

The questions are rhetorical, that much is obvious, so neither of them say anything as they wait for Cowell to continue.

“You're good. Some of the best players I've ever had on this team and I want to see you go places with the talent you both possess.” Cowell sighs. He’s quiet for a moment, pacing in front of them. “But that doesn’t make you invincible. Right now, I look at you, and I don’t see NHL material.”

Harry lets out a breath like he's been punched, running his hands over his face till they land on the back of his neck.

“I don’t think,” Cowell starts again, tapping his chin. “I don’t think you realize how much power I have over your futures. As your coach, I’m the first person scouts are gonna talk to, and while I’d never do anything to intentionally jeopardize your careers, I promise you at this point the first thing I’d tell them is your sportsmanship is shit. I want to see you succeed, it’s my job, but not if I know you’re only going to fuck things up for yourself.”

Harry wants to protest that he has excellent sportsmanship, that it's just fucking Louis that he has a problem with but he knows it will fall on deaf ears.

“That’s all I want you to know. I hope you learned your lesson today. You don’t have to make nice. I just need you to tolerate each other, and I want you to know I won’t put up with this anymore. You’re fucking done if you compromise this team one more time.”

Louis and Harry both mutter their understanding, neither one of them having the balls to look their coach in the eyes.

“We have two practices before our next game, I want to put both of you in as starters. Show me I can.”

Coach dismisses them, and Harry stands on wobbly legs to go shower. He has two back to back lectures and then he has to be back here for their actual practice. He strips himself down of his sweaty clothes, wrinkling his nose at the smell before turning the spray on hot and hoping he won't throw up again.

Louis pads in, looking shaken like he’s been told, well, like he’s been told he won’t amount to anything at this rate, and Harry can at least share that sentiment. They don't speak to each other, Louis won't even look his way as he heads into his own shower.

Harry’s definitely not looking, swiping his wet hair away from his face and lathering himself quickly with soap. He turns the water as high as it will go till his skin is red and the tension in his muscles have relaxed some what.

“You know if you weren’t such a -” Louis starts, cutting into Harry’s serenity sudden enough to startle him. Louis seems to stop himself though, shaking his head and shutting off his water. Harry rolls his eyes and tightens his jaw, biting back his own comments as he listens to Louis move around to get dressed. He shuts his own water off after a minute, tugging a towel around his waist as he wanders back out to the lockers. Louis was already dressed and is leaving the room with a dramatic slam of the door when Harry approaches his locker.

Harry pulls on jeans and a hoodie hurriedly, and has about ten minutes to get all the way to the economics building by the time he pulls a beanie over his wet hair.

-

“Fucking get your shit together lads!” Cowell screams at the team as they have their huddle in the locker room. It’s the end of first period and they’re losing two to zero with four penalties under their belts, James out for the rest of the game due to the fight he picked with the other team 15 minutes in. Louis’ panicking a bit, because they can’t afford to be losing this hard so early in the championship. Ohio State isn’t even that good, for fuck’s sake.

“Zayn you're going in the rest of the game, I don't want one fucking puck making it past you, Horan you better be making sure no one even gets near that fucking goal.” Cowell says as he grips his clipboard tightly, running through everyone's positions.

“Styles, Tomlinson. I don’t know what shit you’re pulling today, but the last time we talked I don’t remember telling you to completely fucking ignore each other. This is a communication sport, and while I’m glad you’re not at each other’s throats, whatever you’re doing is not working. I need you working together if you’re both out there. Don’t make me put a second-string on that ice.”

“Yes coach.” The two of them say in unison.

“So we’re gonna go out there, and show them that we have some of the most valuable players in the NCAA, right?” Cowell raises his brow.

“Yes coach.” The whole team screams, making Cowell nod and shout for them all to get their asses out on the court. Louis follows the team back out, and they’ve got a little less than three minutes before the game starts back up. Someone pulls hard on his arm, making him stumble slightly as he turns to see Liam with a stormy expression.

“Don't fight with him, work together and we can fucking win this, alright?”

“Yeah, Payno. ‘ve got it,” Louis agrees, nodding before fitting his mouth guard back in. Liam nods, patting Louis hard on the back before jogging up to Niall and Harry. He can’t help but let his eyes catch on Harry just before he puts his helmet back on, cheeks flushed and hair wild. Louis shakes his head, putting his helmet on and slapping himself twice on the head before heading into the court.

Their second period starts off just as messy as the first, because Ohio gets a good head start after Andy fucks up at center line. It picks up though, around three minutes in, when Harry intercepts a bad pass and gets the puck on their side. He gets it halfway down the court before three guys are on him, only passing the puck over to Louis just before he gets slammed into the wall. All Louis can hear is noise, but that’s the sort of thing you tune out at times like this. He’s got no open players, so his only choice is to get around Ohio’s defence and fucking score, already. He weaves his way through two defenders, shouldering his way through another before finally being able to take a shot at the goal. He has about half a second to strategize his shot and make it, but Louis’ always been good at working under pressure. He hears a muffled shout of his name that sounds like it could be Harry just as he takes his shot.

At first he thinks it got blocked, but it’s hard to distinguish through all the adrenaline and he’s watching for a rebound, but the buzzer signals a point and his teammates are on his back in the next second. His grin feels likes it's going to split his face in half, but he knows it's not over yet. They still need two more goals to win.

The rest of the second period is a game of back and forth, vigorous and fucking irritating, but Harry pulls something in the last seven seconds that gets them tied for the start of third.

“One more point boys!” Liam shouts as they get in position, giving Harry and Louis both a look. Louis shoots back a jerky nod, determined to win this if it kills him even if it means handing over the spotlight, to show coach and everyone else that he can fucking play. The whistle blows signaling the start of the final period, Andy getting the puck straight away and sending it back to Liam. The game stays in their favor, for the most part, except for one hiccup in which the puck stays on Ohio’s side for too long and Zayn has to block a close pass. He can hear coach cursing from the side, the whole team on their feet as they watch Niall send the puck up to Harry at the center line.

From there Harry takes it, and Louis tries to stay open but the other team has picked up on that strategy by now. He makes eye contact with Harry and nods to the left, signaling for him to drop it back to Liam and head up to the goal. Harry actually listens, effortlessly sending it back to Liam. Harry pushes through the defensive line as Louis skates his way over to Liam, taking the puck from him after Liam does a fake out. From there all there’s left to do is get it in, and Louis’ getting ready to when he catches someone coming in from his right side.

“Harry,” Louis yells as he passes the puck to him right when he gets shouldered to the floor. He doesn’t even see him receive it, can only hope he did with so little time on the clock, but the cheers that follow are telling enough. He gets up as soon as he can and rushes over to the dog pile that Harry is at the bottom of, jumping on top. There’s a little over a minute left in the game, and Louis knows from experience that it’s more than enough time for Ohio to tie them back, but as long as they can keep the puck away the game is in their favor. Liam clasps both Louis and Harry on the back and tells Niall and Andy to keep the puck as far away from their goal as possible.

As they break their huddle, Louis dares to clap Harry on the back, hoping it’s a friendly tap that says good job and not you look really hot and sweaty and I hate that I want to fuck you.

“Kick ass Tomlinson.” Harry says with a nod and a small smirk. Louis blinks. He didn’t exactly think Harry would punch him, but.

“You too Styles.”

“Let's go boys!” The referee shouts. Louis skates back into position, crouching down and keeping a careful eye on the puck as the game restarts. He hears the whistle go off and Andy is already sending the puck over to Liam. Ohio’s dedicated, Louis has to hand it to them, but Niall and Andy are ruthless if nothing else. Harry is making his way through the defense line, skating towards the goal as he signals to Liam to set him up.

Harry makes the shot with twenty seconds to spare, setting their win in stone.

-

“Alright lads, everyone settle down and take a seat.” Cowell calls over all the shouting in the locker room. Louis stops horsing around with Liam to listen, already showered and changed into joggers and a sweatshirt and buzzing on adrenaline from their win. He sits on the bench next to Zayn and Liam, throwing an arm around Zayn’s shoulder.

“So,” Cowell starts, “We had a rocky start, but you all pulled through once you started working together. That’s what I want to be seeing.”

Louis can feel the whole team looking between Harry and him and does his best to ignore it.

“With that being said I've decided that for the rest of the season everyone will be getting a partner. Your partner will be who you practice with, who you study with, and who you socialize with.”

Louis fights the urge to groan, because he already knows what’s coming. Coach starts going down the team roster, pairing up Samuels and Payne, Horan and Malik, Styles and Tomlinson, naturally. The rest of the team is fine with this of course since everyone already gets along.

“I don't want to hear any complaining, you will treat your partner like they are your best friend and if I hear anything differently you won't play in the next two games. Am I clear?”

There’s a murmur of assent among the team, and with that coach congratulates them on their game and leaves them to finish up.

“Alright lads, practice it tomorrow at 7 so if you're going to go out and party just remember I'll have you doing laps till you puke if you're late.” Liam tells everyone as he stands to address them.

“Also coach filled me in on the partner thing and that does start today, so when you leave they better be going with you.”

He shoots Louis a pointed look, and sometimes Louis hates Liam a lot.

He sighs loudly and detaches himself from Zayn to grab his bag and phone, making his way over to Niall and Harry.

“Hey,” He greets both of them, shouldering his bag and trying not to fiddle the strings on his hoodie.

“Hey mate, so I was gonna see if you and Malik wanted to come over and have a few pints with us, maybe watch some game films to see who we're up against next.” Niall greets in a rush.

“Uh, sure? I’ve just got to run home and grab my laptop, got an essay due this week,” Louis answers.

“Why don't you and Harry go and Niall and I can pick up some food and beer.” Zayn says as he comes up to stand next to Louis.

“I’d actually really rather not,” Louis says lightly.

“Great so we'll see you in like half an hour.” Zayn nods as he claps Louis on the back.

“Fuck you,” Louis sputters, already panicking at the thought of being alone with Harry. That’s something that’s never happened, except for that time in Louis’ bed. Harry hasn't said anything to him or at all since the game, even now he's avoiding even looking at Louis. Zayn’s already tugging Niall along, and Louis’ still glaring when they walk through the door.

“Right, so we gonna go or are you just gonna stare at the floor like a knob?” Louis asks once they’re gone, shifting his weight. He sees Harry narrow his eyes and expects the boy to pick a fight but to his surprise Harry just shakes his head and grabs his bag, ushering Louis out the door. Louis keeps his chin up as they walk past the bleachers, flipping off Harvey and Lucas when they catcall them on the way out. Louis heads straight for the bus stop at the end of the comer, only to be stopped by Harry's hand on his arm.

“We can take my car.” Harry states, still not looking at him. If Louis’ totally honest, Harry’s fingers wrapped around his forearm make something settle in his belly, but he ignores it.

“Fine,” Louis snips, pulling his arm out of Harry’s grasp and making his way over to the BMW that he knows is Harry's.

Posh bastard.

Harry rolls his eyes and unlocks it, tossing his bag in the backseat before rounding to the driver’s side. He can feel Harry's eyes on him as he lifts himself into the car, having to use the handle to pull himself up which Harry snickers at. Louis huffs in annoyance. He can’t believe what his so-called friends are putting him through, honestly. Harry sticks the key into the ignition aggressively, Louis trying his best not to stare.

“This partner thing is bullshit, huh?” Louis says as they begin to move, a stilted attempt at casual conversation.

“Yah, a bit.” Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. Louis hums and knocks his head against the window, fingers tapping his leg. Zayn and his apartment isn't too far from campus so they arrive before Louis can even consider changing all of Harry's preset stations. Louis jumps out of the car as soon as it stops, fumbling for his key and slamming the door just to be a twat. He heads straight to his room to get his laptop and a change of clothes since Zayn and him will probably end up staying the night. He grabs his baggie of spliff as an afterthought. He figures there's no shortage of that in a frat house, but, just in case. He shoves everything in a drawstring bag and heads back out to Harry's car where he's waiting.

He’s tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that’s on, humming quietly and he doesn’t seem to notice when Louis opens the door. Harry doesn't acknowledge him when he gets in, putting it in reverse and heading towards the frat house without even a glance at Louis.

“You’re so fucking passive aggressive, you know,” Louis comments, can’t help it.

“Can you just keep your mouth shut, I know it must be hard for you but it'd be lovely if you could at least try.” Harry replies, his tone casual.

“Oh, it speaks,” Louis snorts, propping his feet up on the dashboard.

“Get out of my car.” Harry responds as he parks, rolling his eyes as he cuts the engine. Louis sputters, sitting up in his seat and narrowing his eyes. Logically, he knows that Harry’s frat is on like, the next street, but he can never pass up the opportunity to be dramatic.

“Really Styles, you wanna sit out the next two games after I tell coach you left me on a random block after kicking me out of your stupidly posh car?”

“You won’t tell him, you’ll get in trouble too. You want me to open the door for you, or?” Harry’s smirking like he knows exactly how childish and infuriating he is.

“I'd rather I get out and you find a cliff to drive off of.” Louis snips, his lips turned down in a scowl.

“Dammit, Tomlinson, I was doing so good at not arguing with you. But you’re so goddamn annoying, you know that?”

“I'm a fucking delight thank you very much, you're just a giant twat.” Louis hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry leans over the center console and he’s so fucking close all the sudden, and for a second Louis thinks he’s going to kiss him again but instead he opens the fucking door.

“Get out,” Harry orders, sitting back in his seat.

“No.” Louis huffs, slamming the door shut as hard as he can. He puts his feet back on the dashboard and makes a show of sitting back in his seat. Harry glares at him silently and louis wants to kick himself because this stupid curly haired twat is far too attractive when he's angry. Louis’ forced to break their glaring contest because his phone buzzes with a text from Zayn.

**stop blowing styles we r getting started without you guys**

**_I hope u rot in hell_ **

**_We're on our way_ **

“Will you just fucking drive? Our friends are waiting on us,” Louis huffs, sticking his leg out to kick Harry in the shoulder. Harry catches his ankle in his hand, squeezing hard as he glares at Louis. Louis blinks, can’t help the hot flush that rises on his cheeks. He hates that Harry can fluster him so easily, doing things like grabbing him and getting in his face and touching himself in Louis’ bed.

“I know you're only two feet tall, but you could at least try and act like you're not three.” Harry states, pushing Louis’ leg away. Louis scoffs and tucks his leg under the other, turning towards the window so Harry won’t see the flush on his face.

“I made one bloody comment, so you’re trying to ditch me on the side of the road, and now I’m childish?”

“Yes.” Harry replies, starting the car back up, his hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. Louis rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother responding; it’s useless. Harry puts the car in gear and heads to the frat house, muttering to himself about what a waste of space Louis is.

“Right, well this waste of space was a key component in winning the game today, so,” Louis snips, keeping his voice light.

“Fuck off, we would have fucking lost if it wasn't for you and I.” Harry spits.

“I never said it was just me, you dick. All I meant was you could give me some fucking credit sometimes, you know? You’re so up yourself,” Louis argues, genuinely angered at Harry’s twisting of his words.

“Maybe if you weren't such a selfish prick I wouldn't just assume things.” Harry bites back. They’re pulling up to the frat now, only Louis’ still seething and he can’t let Liam see them arguing like this or he’s dead.

“How ‘bout this, we pretend we can stand each other for the sake of the team and so Liam and coach don't kill us. Deal?” Louis sighs. When Harry is silent, Louis huffs and adds, “I mean it, Styles. For the next few weeks you and I are the best of mates in front of them. I'm not losing my future over this, I swear to God, Harry-”

“Fine, I get it, alright?”

“Good, now let's go I need to smoke if I have to pretend I can tolerate you.” Louis says, unbuckling his seatbelt and jumping down out of his seat. He grabs his bags from the back and Harry does the same, the two of them neutralizing their facial expressions so it doesn't look like they'd been fighting. He follows Harry into the house and up to Niall’s room where Zayn and him are talking while sharing a joint.

“Oi, you two fuckers finally made it,” Niall exclaims, passing off the joint to Zayn and standing. “You can dump your stuff anywhere, Lou, I'm gonna go find booze and game tapes.”

“Thanks mate,” Louis smiles, placing his bag in the corner of the room and head over to sit next to Zayn, taking the joint from Zayn’s fingers and taking a long drag. He offers it to Harry afterwards, who sits cross-legged on Niall’s bed before accepting it.

Zayn looks between the two of them with a raised eyebrow, not even batting an eye when Louis blows smoke in his face. They pass the joint between the three of them, smoking it down to a stump by the time Niall returns with a bottle of Jack and an armful of DVDs.

Niall pops in the first disk after throwing the bottle to Harry, demanding he pack them a bowl while he presses play. Harry rolls his eyes playfully at his friend and pulls open Niall’s nightstand, pulling out a nice glass pipe and reaching for the baggie on the bed. He packs the bowl fat much to everyone's delight before lighting up, holding the smoke in before passing it to Niall. Louis gets a distinct feeling they won't be getting much done tonight, but watching Harry's face surrounded in a cloud of dense smoke is probably worth it. They pay the bare minimum amount of attention to the game film, passing around the pipe till there's only ash left and waiting as Niall packs another bowl.

Louis’ already feeling pretty floaty. His tolerance has gone down since he tries to cut down on his smoking habit during hockey season, and Niall's got good shit too. He’s curled himself up under Zayn’s arm, petting at his chest absentmindedly. He’s sort of, kind of, watching the game on Niall’s flat screen, but his gaze just keeps catching on the circle at center line. He's almost positive it's spinning, but that's probably definitely the weed.

“Let's do shots!” Niall giggles, grabbing the bottle off the table.

“We don't have any glasses.” Zayn pipes up, his voice rougher than usual.

“Is anyone capable of making it downstairs?” Niall asks, earning a resounding answer of ‘no’ from everyone in the group.

“Louis take your shirt off.” Zayn suggests, nugging Louis' side.

“Now Zayn,” Louis tuts, rough and a little bit garbled, “I know you'd love that, but I consider my body sacred and I'm not letting you play with my nipples again-”

“Fuck off Louis, I'm going to drink whiskey out of your belly button.”

“Oh, sick.” Louis nods, sitting up and slowly peeling off his shirt, his hair falling into his half closed eyes. He drops it to the floor and flops back onto his spot on the bed, where he’d migrated to after Niall started farting down on the floor.

“Drink from me,” Louis giggles, stretching out as Zayn kneels next to him. He’s expecting the cold drip of liquid but not exactly prepared for it, giggling and squirming at the feeling.

“Stay still.” Zayn mutters, holding Louis’ hips in place. He finishes pouring and absentmindedly passes off the bottle to Harry, who’s watching way too intently.

“Hurry up, I wanna drink.” Niall whines, pushing Harry towards the bed. Zayn ducks down then and licks the alcohol from Louis’ belly. He’s pretty business-like about it, as Zayn tends to be, not letting his tongue linger or anything like that. Louis squirms under Zayn’s hands, whining when Zayn presses down harder.

“Woah, Zayn, had no idea you felt that way about me,” Louis giggles breathlessly, too high to be embarrassed.

“Shut up Lou,” Zayn snorts with an eye roll.

“Oh, bugger off. Anyone else want a turn?” Louis asks, eyes slited as he looks around. Harry is still looking at him with dark, hooded eyes, the bottle held loosely between three fingers. It’s the same look he had given Louis when he was on top of him those few nights ago, and Jesus, it makes Louis’ skin hot.

“Are you gonna do the shot or not H?” Niall asks, getting impatient.

“Yeah. You gonna?” Louis parrots, stretching his body out invitingly. He’s probably a little too confident, even for being stoned.

“Jesus, I will, calm down.” Harry responds, pouring a little too much of the liquid into Louis’ belly button. The access dripping down Louis’ flushed skin.

“Hey, I am calm. Calm as a...as _a...oh_ ,” Louis loses his train of thought when Harry’s tongue meets his skin, skin flushing hotly all the way down to his chest.

Harry takes his time lapping up the liquor, Louis doing his best not to start popping a boner as Harry nips at the skin on his stomach. It feels like whole minutes go by before Harry finally sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and somehow that's hot. Louis doesn't notice how fast his chest is rising and falling until Niall is yelling at him to stop breathing because he doesn't want to waste any of the alcohol.

“Fuck off, Horan, not my fault you can’t keep steady while you pour,” Louis murmurs. He feels so hot, especially with Harry still watching him. Niall is quick about taking his turn, not lingering like Harry had. Louis doesn’t pay much attention to him, too busy trying to forget Harry’s tongue, how sharp and insistent and practiced each lap was.

“How am I gonna take a shot?” Louis asks, turning his head to the side to look at the three boys.

“Well, if anyone’s willing to volunteer their belly button,” Niall shrugs.

“Harry will do it.” Zayn volunteers for the boy. Louis would glare at him if he could actually function properly. He can’t, though, so he settles for reaching out to blindly pinch Zayn’s leg.

“Bugger up Lou,” Niall laughs as he tries to get Louis up so Harry can lay down.

“Can't move. Stuck.” Louis states, not knowing if he can even get up.

“C’mon, Lou, we barely smoked anything, get up,” Zayn urges, making Louis grumble. Easy for him to say, Louis’ pretty sure Zayn spends most of his life stoned.

“I'm broken, can't.” Louis pouts, trying to sit up and failing.

“Maybe you don’t need a shot, then,” Zayn reasons.

“Just pour it in my mouth,” Louis shrugs, opening his mouth as wide as he can.

“You’re a riot,” Zayn chuckles, carefully tipping the bottle into Louis’ open mouth. Zayn gives him way more than one shot worth but Louis doesn't complain, swallowing it all and only letting a little run down the side of his cheeks. He smacks his lips when he’s done, beaming and not bothering to wipe up his sticky cheeks.

“Anyone else?” Zayn asks, shaking the bottle around with a raised eyebrow. Louis shakes his head, already warm and lethargic from the alcohol.

“Yah, are we just going straight from the bottle now?” Harry asks, holding his hand out.

“Whatever you want, man. I'm sure Lou’s fine with more body shots,” Zayn answers, so obviously smug that Louis pinches him again.

“Cool.” Harry replies lamely, shuffling closer to Louis like he's not certain if he should. It’s probably a bad idea because Louis’ definitely going to pop a boner if Harry does it again; he’s halfway there already, but he finds himself nodding anyway.

Harry tips the bottle slowly, letting the liquid pool into Louis’ belly button, licking his lips as he catches Louis’ eye. Louis raises his eyebrows impatiently, and the air is so charged with sexual tension he almost forgets there are two other people in the room.

Oh, well. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Harry bends down till his hair is falling over Louis’ exposed skin, making the boy giggle gently. That comes with the side effect of some of the liquid dripping down his sides, but Harry’s quick to get to it. He drags his tongue over Louis’ skin, licking up the spilled liquor quickly before it can fall onto the bed.

Louis finds himself holding his breath, purely for the reason that if he were to exhale it’d come out shaky without a doubt. Harry is slowly sucking the alcohol off of Louis’ body, his lips shining red and his hair falling everywhere. Louis wishes he would put his head lower, feeling dizzy and hot and so heavily aroused he might have stopped breathing altogether. He vaguely hears Niall and Zayn saying something about rolling another joint as they sit in front of the tv, but everything is mostly just white noise.

The thing is, Harry doesn’t stop once he’s licked Louis dry of any remaining liquor. He keeps licking, sucking, biting on the lower part of Louis’ belly, which normally would do next to nothing for him, but now, it makes him dizzy with want. His hand somehow makes its way into Harry's hair, his fingers curling tightly around the soft curls.

Harry’s got to be laying down some marks, both in the way he’s gripping Louis’ hips tightly and working his mouth on his skin so insistently. Louis can't help the small whimper that leaves his lips, the sound only seeming to fuel Harry. He’s not even trying to be subtle when his hand comes up to grip Louis through his joggers, mouth never leaving his skin. Louis gasps loudly, his hips bucking up into Harry's hand.

“Think we ought to go find some snacks, eh Niall?” Louis hears Zayn saying distantly.

“Don't fuck in my bed!” Niall calls out to them as Zayn and him head out of the room. And then Louis’ alone, with Harry on top of him, for the second time in a week.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes out, his eyes fluttering shut as Harry sucks a mark into his hip, palming him through his pants. It’s like, Louis can feel everything, hypersensitized from the weed. He starts to tug on Harry's curls, his lips parted as he lets out little jagged breaths.

“Blow me?” Louis tries, attempting to sound like he’s at least somewhat in control of his mind and body, even though the breathlessness in his voice sort of counteracts that.

“Maybe.” Harry shrugs, detaching his mouth from Louis’ skin.

“Fuck kind of answer is that?” Louis huffs out impatiently.

“The kind where I'm not sure I want to put your small cock in my mouth.” Harry scoffs, pinching Louis’ thigh.

“Let me help you with that: you do,” Louis snips, deciding to ignore the jab because that’s not going to get his dick sucked, is it. Harry rolls his eyes, ducking his head back down to bite Louis’ hip harshly. Louis’ a little tired of feeling helpless, but his bones are too heavy to move so he has no choice but to take whatever Harry gives him. Louis whines as Harry nuzzles his face just above the line of Louis’ joggers. Harry’s so close, hot breath soaking through the fabric.

“Will you just fucking do it already, God.” Louis groans, biting his lip. Harry rolls his eyes, nimble fingers finally working the band of Louis’ joggers downward. Louis pushes his hips off the bed so Harry can pull his pants down off his legs, his cock heavy against his hip. He can’t even be embarrassed about how hard he’s gotten, wet and red at the tip. Harry wraps a large hand around Louis’ prick, thumbing over the slit. Even just that is too much but not enough. Louis has to bite down on his lip to keep from making noise. Harry bends his head down to take the head into his mouth, sucking hard.

Even stoned, Louis can tell Harry’s not going to be nice to him, because when is Harry ever nice to him. But that’s fine, because he’s not going to be nice, either. He watches the boy as his eyes slip closed, holding Harry's head in a tight grip before thrusting up into his mouth.

He gets the reaction he wants: Harry makes a noise of protest and pinches his thigh, hard, but surprisingly he doesn’t take away his mouth. Louis takes that as permission and fucks his hips up into the boy’s mouth, groaning when Harry doesn't pull off and instead tries to take more of Louis into his mouth. It makes perfect sense for Harry to be into that kind of thing. Louis, personally, likes to take things at his own pace, doesn’t like feeling used, but it’s something that fits Harry so well he’s surprised he didn’t guess it sooner. He milks it for all that it's worth, pushing Harry's head down as far as he can while both hands pull him on and off his cock, watching Harry's eyes tear up and his nostrils flare as he tries to breathe around Louis.

He has a feeling he’s going to be paying for this, whether Harry secretly likes it or not, but he doesn’t mind. He’s high and horny and all he’s after is a good blowjob. He's already close, has absolutely no stamina when he's high. He has enough sense to at least try and prolong it, knowing he will never live it down if he comes within barely three minutes. It's difficult when Harry is so willing to take it, his hands holding Louis’ thick thigh down like he's trying to ground himself. He looks so good like this, Louis can admit, red lips stretched thin around his cock. He knows Harry's hard too, rubbing himself against the sheets like he can't help it.

“Gonna come,” Louis grunts, because he is, if Harry’s throat keeps fluttering around his cock like that. Harry hums around him as best he can, making Louis curse wildly. There’s not really any use holding off, he realizes. Harry can make fun of him all he wants, Louis just wants to come.

“Fuck, _fuckfuckfuck_.” Louis curses as he comes down Harry's throat, holding Harry's head down as he does. Harry's fingers dig into his thighs as Louis comes, only gagging a little as he swallows it all down. Louis is breathing hard when Harry pulls off of him, licking his red, spit slick lips. Louis’ just sitting up to finish him off when he notices the wet patch on the front of his sweats.

“Did you-”

“Yeah.” And then Harry Styles blushes.

“ _Christ_.” Louis sighs, falling back down onto his back. He has enough sense and dignity to reach down and tug his joggers back over his flagging prick. Harry shifts around on his knees for a minute before getting up and heading to Niall's dresser to steal a pair of shorts.

“Are you gonna do your weird passive aggressive thing and pretend this never happened now?” Louis asks lightly.

“Probably,” Harry answers honestly.

“Gonna shove me to the ground next practice?” Louis continues, smirking.

“No, gonna slam you into the wall.” Harry corrects cheekily.

“Mm, careful, I might like that too much.” Louis sits up groggily, only having sobered up a little.

“Course you would,” Harry snickers lightly, pulling the shorts up his legs without anything underneath. Louis’ actually surprised he’s still talking to him, if he’s honest.

“Better clean yourself up before Niall comes back and kills us.” Harry suggests, grabbing the pipe off the nightstand to pack another bowl. Louis grumbles unintelligibly, somehow managing to drag his heavy limbs up off the bed to look at himself in the mirror above the dresser. He's a mess, his skin is flushed red along with his eyes, his stomach is covered in lovebites and his hair looks like someone tried to strangle him with it.

“Oh, Christ,” He sighs, stumbling as he looks for the shirt he discarded somewhere. He finds it in a pile of dirty socks Niall has laying around, making his nose wrinkle as he picks it up. He’s still a little bit sticky, but he tugs it over his head anyway. He drops down onto the floor next to Harry after he's tamed his hair the best he can and steals the pipe out of Harry’s hands to take a hit.

“You’re not, um. You don’t tell anyone about this stuff, right?” Harry asks suddenly, smoke wisping from his lips as he speaks.

“Why would I want anyone to know I've had the displeasure of seeing you hard?” Louis scoffs, blowing the smoke out of his nose.

“Shut up, I'm bigger than you anyway,” Harry scoffs.

“Your ego might be.” Louis shots back.

“Or both,” Harry compromises, hitting the pipe.

“Fuck off,” Louis huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Anyway,” Harry sighs, standing. “I’m gonna go crash, and you’re not welcome, so. Also, you owe me a blowjob.”

“I don't owe you anything Styles.” Louis replies, sticking his legs out in hopes to trip Harry. He fails, because Harry steps right over him, flipping him off as he stumbles gracelessly out Niall’s bedroom door.

It's only after he's gone and Louis has smoked the rest of the bowl that he remembers that he can't leave because of the partner thing. He considers going anyway, but Liam will most definitely find out if he does and he takes captain duty very seriously. He sighs to himself and grabs his bag and shoes from the corner of the room, making sure he still has the weed he brought before heading to Harry's room. He’s not entirely sure which one it is, but the one cluttered with posters of dirty hipster bands on the door seems about right. He slowly pulls open the door, hoping Harry is already asleep so he can smoke the rest of his weed and fall into a deep sleep without anyone to nag him.

It’s wishful thinking, because Harry’s in bed on his phone in nothing but pants.

“What do you want?” Harry asks, barely looking up from his phone.

“Can’t go home. Partner thing, remember?” Louis reminds him.

“I'm not sharing my bed with you.” Harry states firmly, narrowing his eyes at Louis as he pulls out the Baggie of weed.

“Why not? I shared mine,” Louis says pointedly.

“Unlike you I don't share my bed with just anyone.” Harry responds, making Louis roll his eyes as he grabs a few papers to roll.

“Right, well. I would have shoved you onto the floor if you weren’t such a dead fucking weight,” Louis scoffs, jostling Harry as he jumps on the end of his mattress and situates himself.

“You're so bloody annoying.” Harry groans, kicking at Louis’ leg.

“You got a book or something?” Louis asks, ignoring the jab as he gestures to the papers and weed. Harry mutters something unintelligent and reaches under the bed to grab a business textbook.

“Business, eh?” Louis comments, setting to work on rolling the joints.

“One of my majors yah.” Harry mutters, pulling his phone out again. Louis’ curious but he doesn’t push it, never pegged Harry for a businessman. He has enough weed to roll four good joints, figuring he's going to smoke all of them before the night is up. He rolls quickly, practiced, cross-legged on Harry’s bed. Twisting the ends, he drops three back in the baggie for safekeeping and lights up the remaining one. The smoke feels good in his lungs, fogging up his thoughts just right and leaving him heavy in all the right ways. Zayn buys the best shit, seriously.

Louis smokes through half the joint before passing it to Harry, already feels his eyes burning from the density of the smoke. Harry takes it without a word, exhaling as much as his lungs will allow before letting it slowly fall from his lips. They smoke together in silence, it’s almost nice. Harry doesn’t even bitch and moan when Louis climbs up to join him at the top of the bed. They're just starting on the third joint and Louis can barely contain the laughter that is bubbling up inside him, small giggles escaping behind his hand.

“Holy shit,” He giggles, high and breathless. “You know your eyes aren’t even open, curly.”

Harry is slow to react, his eyes opening slower than he speaks till he's blinking at Louis’ with wide, red rimmed eyes.

“Woah.”

It makes Louis laugh harder, shoving his face in a pillow as an attempt to shut himself up.

“It's like-really bright in here.” Harry mumbles, blinking extremely slowly.

“Because you’ve been fucking sleeping for the past ten minutes,” Louis chuckles, words heavy on his tongue.

“I was not.” Harry protests, his voice rough and raspy.

“Okay, I believe you,” Louis giggles, even though he definitely doesn’t.

“Stop giggling, it's cute.” Harry slurs, trying to narrow his eyes at the boy and failing. If Louis weren’t so stoned he’d probably be stunned into silence, because he’s pretty sure Harry bloody Styles just called him cute.

“You know, I still owe you blowjob.” Louis reminds, tilting his head to the side as Harry takes a drag.

“Thought you didn’t owe me anything,” Harry murmurs through the smoke, eyes unfocused and glazed.

“I've changed my mind, I like to play fair.” Louis shrugs, taking the joint from Harry's fingers. Harry smirks, fingers fiddling with the band of his briefs subconsciously.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Louis smirks and finishes off the rest of the joint, holding in the smoke as he crawls into Harry's lap. He brings his hands up to his face and tilts his head up for better leverage, pressing their open mouths close together. He lets the smoke seep out of his mouth and into Harry's, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen but knowing this is so much better. He sits back once he’s done, watching the smoke curl from Harry’s lips. Harry let's it out slowly as his hands settle on Louis’ hips, rubbing at the exposed skin between his shirt and pants. It feels too intimate like this, slow and soft like Harry actually gives a shit about him.

“My dick isn't gonna suck itself you know.” Harry mutters, looking unimpressed.

“Watch it, curly,” Louis snaps, tweaking one of Harry’s nipples playfully before shimmying down his legs.

He manages to make Harry come in under five minutes which Louis would have given him shit about if he hadn't fallen asleep seconds after. Louis’ literally still swallowing his come when he hears him snoring, and he’s passed out in the middle of the bloody bed. Louis can shove all he wants, but he already knows he won’t budge, so he flops down and curls into his side. If he wakes up on the floor, well, that’s his own fault, he supposes.

-

Harry and Louis end up being five minutes late for practice the next morning, both feeling slightly hungover and groggy. In fact, Louis’ pretty sure he’s still a little high, off balance and reacting too slowly. Harry isn't much better, his eyes still red and his face pale.

So practice is a dud. They can’t work together but it’s because they can hardly function on their own more than anything else. Cowell isn't impressed with them, or most of the team as it is since a third of them are hungover or too tired to function.

He ends up cutting practice short, which means it ends when it’s actually supposed to end rather than an hour or two later. The team heads to the locker room to shower and change, most of the boys moaning about how they can't wait to go home to sleep. Louis and Harry aren’t speaking, but they’re not fighting either, and Louis’ didn’t wake up on the floor, so maybe things are better. They head back to Louis and Zayn’s flat with Niall and Zayn, both looking almost as bad seeing as they apparently didn't go to sleep till five in the morning.

Louis passes out cheap bottled water and makes popcorn that no one eats because ten minutes into whatever shitty comedy, everyone’s passed out in a pile on the floor. When they finally manage to get up it's only to order take out and eat themselves to sleep again. Louis wakes up after only an hour with the world’s worst kink in his neck, so he picks himself out of the pile and stumbles tiredly to his own bed. He pulls the covers up to his chin and sighs happily as he drifts off to sleep again.

-

He wakes up to some banging around, blinking his eyes open against the light, who the fuck turned the light on? He tries to turn over onto his back only to bump into Harry, who's sitting up playing on his phone. In Louis’ bed.

“Fuck are you doing here?” He grumbles groggily, shutting his eyes again.

“You kick in your sleep, it's really annoying.” Harry says in reply.

“Nobody asked you to get in bed with me,” Louis mumbles, elbowing him weakly.

“Floor’s not very comfortable.” Harry shrugs, switching off his phone.

“What do I care if you’re comfortable, you woke me up and now I'm squished in my own bloody bed,” Louis groans, hitting Harry with a pillow. Harry rips it out of his hands and throws it to the floor, giving Louis his unimpressed face.

“You’re such a brat, honestly,” Harry mutters, deflecting it when Louis tries to swat at him again. Louis tries to hit him in the balls but his wrist gets caught in Harry's hand and he can't move it.

“Fuck off, loser,” He grumbles, wiggling in Harry’s grasp. Harry's only response is to grip Louis’ wrist tighter, making it almost painful. Louis fixes him with an angry glare, flipping him off with the hand he’s gripping.

“You act like a child,” Harry states, rolling his eyes as Louis tries to hit him with his free hand, only to get that one caught as well.

“You act like a dick,” Louis retorts, struggling and kicking him from under the blanket. Harry doesn't take kindly to that and they end up wrestling on the bed, Harry trying to pin Louis onto his back as Louis struggles to land a few blows. The thing is Harry's got a lot more upper body strength than him, and he's a good fifteen pounds heavier, so Louis’ at an all-around disadvantage. Not to mention the fact that Harry's seventy percent shoulders and legs and he covers Louis’ whole body easily.

“Okay, you win, fuck off,” Louis finally admits defeat after five whole minutes of stalemate, it’s honestly less embarrassing. Harry doesn't move for a few minutes, looking deep in thought before he rolls off of Louis.

“Make yourself useful and bring me some food,” Louis grumbles, squirming until he’s in a sitting position.

“Get it yourself.” Harry responds, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Louis asks. “If you literally just came in here to bugger with me I'm going to throw your skates in the pond.”

“I slept in here you dumbass, now I'm going to get myself something to eat.” Harry replies, giving Louis a cocky smile.

“Turn the fucking light off!” Louis calls after him, throwing his last pillow at his retreating figure.

Harry doesn’t. Louis’ going to put egg yolks in his hair gel, or something.

-

They win their second game four to two with six penalties and only three bitchy comments from Louis. Harry thinks it's a win all around. Even coach seems impressed with the way they played. It’s by no means their best game, but he and Louis are doing much better at keeping their bickering off the ice. They try their best not to go at it when others are around, saving it for when they have to spend all day and night in each other company.

It goes like this, for the most part: they play hockey, practice or game or what have you, and it stops being a question when Louis follows Harry out to his car afterwards. The nasty comments and glares don't stop, but it isn't as bad. They usually go wherever Niall, Zayn, and sometimes Liam go, but still end up alone every time. At practice all partners are meant to work together, and when teams are split up for scrimmage they are always on the same team. Harry’s lying if he says the partner thing hasn't helped.

They’ve learned how to work together, even if they still love pissing the other off. Cowell has them pair off with another group of partners to play a four on four tournament that Harry, Louis, Niall and Zayn kick ass in. Coach is being nitpicky because of their upcoming game that will determine their placement on the D1 roster. Everyone is a little high strung with nerves as the game gets closer, just a few more days till they head to Seattle for the game.

Coach only dismisses them when he legally can’t keep them there anymore, sure to remind everyone to get a good night’s sleep. Harry heads straight for the showers when they get into the locker room, Louis at his heels. They both have papers due the next day that are only half done and Louis is being annoying about reminding Harry they can't do anything but go home and work on them.

“What the fuck else am I gonna do, throw a kegger?” Harry huffs, after listening to Louis rattle on and on.

“You live in a fucking frat house I wouldn't put it past you.” Louis snorts as he shoulders his bag.

“Fine, we’ll go to yours and work on papers all goddamn night if it makes you shut the fuck up,” Harry says, feeling for his keys.

“Good, you're paying for dinner tonight too.” Louis nods as they make their way to Harry's car.

“Am not. I paid last night,” Harry protests.

“But I'm going to have to deal with you hogging my bed all night.” Louis replies, giving Harry a pointed look.

“You’re welcome to take the sofa,” Harry says smugly, earning himself a shove and a middle finger. Harry glares at the boy as he stumbles back, regaining his footing and pushing Louis roughly against the side of his car.

“You’re not scary, you know,” Louis mumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Coming from the three foot tall elf.” Harry snorts back.

“What does that make you, three foot two?” Louis fires back, shoving at Harry’s chest fruitlessly.

“You're such a little shit honestly do you ever get tired of hearing your own-” Harry insult is cut off when Louis surges forward to connect their lips in a bruising kiss, his hands burying themselves in Harry's curls. Harry inhales sharply through his nose, instinctively moving to pull back but only because he's caught by surprise. Louis isn't allowing it, holding Harry's head in place as he licks into his mouth, humming when Harry's hands settle on his hips. They kiss like that for a good minute, dirty and bruising.

“Um. _The fuck_?”

Harry pulls away from Louis fast, snapping his head up to see Daniel, the backup goalie, staring at them with wide eyes. Both of them are a little stunned, which, making out in the student parking lot in broad daylight when some people are still leaving practice probably isn’t the best decision they’ve made. Louis squirms out of his place between the car and Harry, giving Daniel a tight smile before climbing into the passenger's seat. Leaving Harry standing like an idiot.

“Uh. It’s not like that,” Is all he can think to say, awkwardly side-stepping to the driver’s side of the car.

“Sure,” Daniel says with a slow drawl, shaking his head as he gets into his own car. Harry bites back further comment, opening the door and slinking into his seat. Louis is already bulked and fiddling with the radio, turning to Harry when the car door slams shut with a frown.

“That was your fault.”

-

“You know everybody already knew you were hooking up with Tomlinson, right? You can stop avoiding him like the plague,” Niall reasons. They’re in the house, and Louis’ somewhere around doing something, not that Harry cares what.

“I'm not hooking up with him,” Harry denies, glaring at the blonde boy. “He forced himself on me.”

“Don’t spread that shit. You and I both know that’s not true, man,” Niall tells him, light hearted as ever. Harry huffs, grumbling to himself as he stands up from his spot on the bed.

“I’m just saying,” Niall continues. “The tension between you guys was insane, and then it was just gone. Not exactly rocket science.”

“It's not gone, I still can't stand him I've just learned to keep it off the ice.” Harry snips.

“Okay, whatever. Either way, you’re supposed to be hanging out, but instead you’re following me around and Tommo’s probably dumping flour all over the kitchen, so.”

“He's probably flirting with everyone in the house you mean.” Harry snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Stop being so unbearable, or like, go do it somewhere else, at least,” Niall sighs, nudging Harry with his socked foot. Harry bats at his foot lightly but gets up anyways, heading out into the hall and making his way to his own room. The house is quiet tonight, because it’s a Friday after another long, exhausting practice, so everyone is either sleeping or elsewhere. He pushes his door open and sighs in relief when he sees Louis isn't in the room, heading to his bed and flopping down onto his stomach. He gets about three minutes of sweet serenity before a shrill voice is cutting into his thoughts.

“Get your fucking arse up I'm so bored.” Louis groans as he comes barreling into the room.

“Since when am I your chosen source of entertainment? Go away, I'm napping,” Harry grumbles.

“Because I can't fucking leave here without you, get up.” Louis demands, jumping onto Harry's bed to poke at the boy.

“You’re the last person I want to hang out with right now, go bother someone else. Throw a fucking party, I don’t care, just don’t talk to me.”

“Will you get off your high horse already, Christ.” Louis replies, pushing at the boy hard till he rolls onto the floor.

“Seriously? What are you even on about? I don’t like you is all,” Harry groans, not moving from his new spot. Irritation prickles at him, and he’ll probably start throwing some real insults if Louis doesn’t fuck off.

“Do you usually stick your dick in things you don't like? If so may I suggest a blender.” Louis fires back, spreading himself out on Harry's bed.

“Oh, you think because we hooked up like, twice, it erases all the shit you’ve done to me. Right,” Harry snorts.

“What I've done to you? Are you fucking kidding me you prick?” Louis hisses, turning on his stomach to look at Harry on the floor.

“Do you need a bullet-pointed list?” Harry asks, keeping his cool even though he knows Louis’ probably about to pounce on him, and not in a fun way.

“Yes actually because you're the one who started all this stupid shit freshman year when you went out for my position and got butt hurt when you realized I was better than you.”

“If you were better than me you wouldn’t steal my shots to put yourself in the spotlight. You wouldn’t need to get on your knees just to draw attention to yourself. You wouldn’t -” He’s cut off by Louis whipping a pillow at his head.

“Don't fucking talk like you know everything about me fuckwit, you don't know shit. So you can shove your hypocritical opinion up your arse.” Louis snaps, getting off the bed and storming out of the room.

“I know everything I need to know!” Harry shouts after him. He doesn’t even bother closing the door.

-

Liam wasn't happy to hear Harry and Louis had broken their partner project and made them stay after practice for an extra two hours running drills the next day. Harry’s cleaning up in the locker room afterwards when Liam approaches him, looking disappointed.

“Save it Li,” Harry mutters, not looking at the other boy as he slips his shirt on. Liam crosses his arms and Harry stuffs his hair into a beanie, moodily packing up his bag.

“Coach wants to pull you two out of the next game. I told him to give you one more chance to work out your shit.”

Harry’s shoulders drop, and he sighs, turning around to look at Liam.

“Thanks, man. Seriously. I’m like, I'm really trying. I don’t know what happened yesterday, he just makes me lose it sometimes,” Harry admits.

“Are you guys having like-weird hate sex? Daniel said he saw you two making out.” Liam asks, making a face.

“Oh god, he’s telling people?” Harry blanches, sighing heavily.

“Well we all thought you guys couldn't stand each other so it's a kind of a weird thing.” Liam shrugs.

“We still can’t stand each other. We just, um. I mean, I'm not gonna lie, he’s kind of hot and we’re usually under the influence, so that’s all. He’s still a tool,” Harry explains, flushing a little. Liam doesn't look impressed with the response but doesn't say anything else about it.

“Just fix whatever mess this is will you? We have a game coming up and we need to win.”

“I’ll try and talk with him, I guess.”

“You will. Partners are still on, man.”

“Alright, I'll go over to his now.” Harry sighs, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Okay. Have a nice night, H. Get some sleep,” Liam tells him, turning to leave.

“You too Li,” Harry nods, grabbing his bag and phone and heading to his car. He drives straight to Louis’ apartment and stays in the parking lot for a good few minutes after he arrives, fingers tapping on the wheel. After a good ten minutes he finally gets out of the car and makes his way into the building.

“Hey, Zayn, it’s me,” He says into the intercom when Zayn answers.

“Hey H, I'll buzz you up.” Zayn speaks, his voice followed by a loud buzzing noise. Harry heads upstairs, hands in his pockets as he makes his way to Zayn and Louis’ door. He walks inside without knocking, kicking off his shoes and heading into the living room where Niall, Zayn, and Louis are sitting. Louis rolls his eyes when he sees him but otherwise keeps his mouth shut, immediately redirecting his gaze back to the TV.

“Hey mate, grab a beer.” Niall greets, pointing at the open six pack on the coffee table.

“I’m good, but thanks,” Harry denies, wandering over to join the group. He thinks twice before plopping down next to Louis, who scoots away childishly. Harry rolls his eyes and drapes both arms over the back of the couch, making Louis squirm.

“Stop being a petty bitch and get over this childish shit, we need to win the game and after this season is over we can deal with whatever shit there is between us.” Harry mutters into Louis’ ear, his arm curling around Louis’ shoulder almost painfully. Louis responds by slumping down under his arm, but Harry doesn't move it, only grips his shoulder tighter.

“Fine.” Louis grumbles under his breath, not looking at Harry. He’ll take it for now.

-

They smash their third and final quarterfinal game with 6-1, an obvious change in Louis and Harry’s sportsmanship from the previous day at practice. The frat throws a kegger the night they get back from Seattle, the whole house filled to the brim. Noah had organized it, and they get a full two days off of practice. Technically, they’re supposed to use it to get extra training in the gym, it’s only advice.

Harry gets pulled off by some of his brothers to chat about how the game went. He doesn’t see Louis at all, and for once he couldn’t give less of a fuck whether or not he was watching. The night starts out good, a drink always in Harry’s hand as he goes from group to group chatting along.

  
The game chat dies down after about an hour, but the adrenaline from playing so well doesn’t fade off as quickly. He ends up doing three lines of shots with Liam and Niall, Zayn cheering them on in the background.

“To a slot in the semifinals!” Niall toasts his last shot, clinking glasses with Liam and Harry before tipping back. They chase their beer down with a Jell-O shot before Niall starts screaming something about beer pong and Harry is left with an empty kitchen.

People stumble in and out for drinks, some stay and talk with him for a minute or two, but that gets boring and soon he’s off trying to find something better to do. He dances with a few people to get his blood pumping, moving from person to person as he gets bored with each partner. He lingers a little longer with a girl from his communications class, thinking he wouldn’t mind getting laid tonight. She gets pulled off by her friends before he can make a move, leaving him slightly frustrated. He gets tired of dancing after that, wandering back into the kitchen for another beer. He drinks two more beers and a shot before he has to head upstairs to change his shirt after a drunken girl pours half her drink down his front.

He stumbles up the steps ungracefully, grimacing when he runs his alcohol-sticky hand through his hair without thinking. He finally manages to get up the stairs and throws open his bedroom door, cursing himself for not locking it tonight. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, and he curses again when he sees there’s definitely people in his bed.

“Get the hell out of my room.” Harry says with a bored tone, stripping off his shirt and not sparing a glance to the couple on the bed as he makes his way to his closet. He hears swearing behind him, slowly picking through his closet. He struggles in the dark, tipsy and clumsy as ever, so he flicks the light on, a dim bulb that illuminates his neatly folded clothes. He picks out a light blue tee and pulls it over his head, turning around just in time to see Louis trying to get his jeans buttoned up while a tall stranger pulls his shirt back on.

“What the fuck,” He says flatly, suddenly ten times more annoyed than he had been seconds ago.

“Sorry mate didn't know this was-” The stranger starts, only to be cut off by Harry's harsh tone.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Don’t be a fucking dick, Styles, we’re going,” Louis snaps, hastily running his fingers through his disheveled fringe.

“Not you Tomlinson.” Harry growls, grabbing him by the arm as the stranger leaves.

“If you’re gonna call me a slut you can save it, I got the message the first twenty times,” Louis bites out.

“We're you really going to fuck him? In my fucking bed?” Harry snarls, holding the boy’s arm tightly.

“Yeah,” Louis answers just as harshly. “I was.”

Harry feels anger engulf his whole body, his eyes burrowing into Louis’ as he throws the boy onto the bed harshly.

“Are you pissed off because we were in your bed, or are you pissed because it wasn’t you?” Louis challenges, Harry barrelling down on the bed right with him.

“I'm pissed because you think you can do whatever the fuck you please without consequences.” Harry snips, pushing Louis onto his back when he tries to sit up.

“Christ, you’re ridiculous. Look, mate, I'm drunk and horny and I had a perfectly good guy to fuck, your room was the first in the corridor, it’s not like I was weighing out the bloody pros and cons,” Louis retorts, shoving at Harry’s chest.

“I find that hard to believe, mate. Did you think I'd just be okay with you fucking some random guy in my bed?” Harry pushes, not even moving an inch when Louis starts to squirm under him.

“I don’t give a fuck what you are and aren’t okay with, but if I thought you’d come knocking down the door and acting like an asshole as usual, I might have thought twice, yeah.” Louis eyes are slightly wide, panicked almost as he tries to shove Harry off of him unsuccessfully.

“Tell me why you brought him in here for real and I might not hit you,” Harry says lowly.

“Fuck off you fucking cunt.” Louis spits venomously.

“Fine. So what I'm gathering is, you came in here with full knowledge that this is my room, my bed, yet you were so desperate to be fucked that you didn’t even think twice. Right?”

Louis doesn't reply, just stares up at Harry with hard eyes. He’s stopped fighting by now, but if looks could kill, Harry’d be six feet under ten times over.

“Answer me.” Harry demands, not even fazed by Louis’ glare.

“Fine,” Louis finally snaps, livid. “I came in here to be fucked, good and hard. So if you’re not going to do me the fucking _displeasure_ , then you could do me a favor and get the fuck off of me.”

Harry growls, actually growls, diving his head down to attack Louis’ throat in harsh lovebites.

“You wanna be fucked? Fine.”

“Oh, that’s rich. You’re just gonna-” Louis’ cut off by his own hitch of breath, doesn’t even bother finishing his sentence. Harry leaves angry, red and purple hickeys all along Louis’ neck. Louis tries not to whine too much as Harry makes his way farther down Louis’ neck, the curly haired boy clawing at his shirt.

“How far’d you get with him?” Harry asks lowly, teeth skimming Louis’ throat.

“He-he was about to finger me.” Louis replies, his voice slightly breathless.

“Yeah? Want my fingers?” Harry mutters, tone still thick with harshness, laced with anger, but now he’s into it, teasing alone Louis’ throat with his tongue.

“Ngghhh,” Louis groans, throwing his head farther back.

“Well? Do you?” Harry repeats, for some reason intent on getting Louis to say it.

“Yes you fucking-fuck.” Louis whimpers, Harry tearing at his jeans. He works them partially down Louis’ thighs, pausing to feel Louis through his briefs. He’s hard, so hard already that Harry wonders if he ever went soft in the first place. He throws Louis’ jeans onto the floor, pulling at his shirt till Louis is left only in his briefs. He mouths at a nipple, blindly throwing open the top drawer of his nightstand and feeling around for the lube. He gets a hold of them and pulls back from Louis, looking down at the boy with hooded eyes. He’s more worked up than Harry’s ever seen him, flushed and desperate.

“You like being roughed up? Like me treating you like the slut you are.”

“Harry.” Louis whines, his cheeks heating up. Harry dips his thumbs under the band of Louis’ underwear, working them down slowly. Louis hands go down to try and help Harry get the pants off, only to have his hands caught by Harry’s.

“Don’t,” Harry mutters vaguely, pushing Louis’ hands away. Harry slowly works Louis’ pants down his thighs, the boy’s cock lying hard against his hip. Once he untangles them from around his ankles, he pushes them away without paying attention to where they land. Harry grabs the lube and pops the cap open, squeezing a good amount onto his fingers. He watches Louis as he pushes the first one in, holding his leg down in his opposite hand. The boy bites his lip hard, trying to contain any noises trying to slip out.

He fingers Louis quick, efficiently, working his way up to three rather fast. He's not gentle, stabbing at the boy’s hole, teasing his prostate every time his fingers push in. Louis’ certainly not complaining, head tipped back and high-pitched little noises escaping his parted lips. Harry thinks about adding a fourth finger just to torment the boy more, wanting to see him fall apart just from Harry fingering him.

“Think you could come like this?” He asks, brushing Louis’ prostate again with intentional pressure.

“Fuck, probably.” Louis gasps, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Harry doesn’t say so out loud, but he finds that really fucking hot. He thinks about getting Louis to come like this, but before he can even make up his mind Louis does, and Harry realizes he’s been stroking his cock.

“Fucking hell.” Harry breaths, watching as Louis shivers through his orgasm.

“Shit, that’s embarrassing,” Louis huffs out breathlessly, chest still rising and falling rapidly.

“Can you come again?” Harry asks, his fingers still working inside of Louis.

“Who do you think I am?” Louis laughs, then seems to remember who he’s with and steels his expression again.

“Turn over,” Harry orders, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the bed sheet. He pulls his jeans down just enough to get his cock out, and Louis rolls over willingly, pushing his ass in the air slightly.

Harry gives one cheek a rough smack, the skin burning from the hit. Louis hisses and instinctively flinches away from the contact, though when Harry does it again he seems expecting, moaning a little. After Harry had turned the smooth skin a nicely flushed pink he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out, grabbed the lube and spilled some over himself. Louis’ face down in the pillows, legs parted and ass just barely in the air. Harry quickly spreads the lube evenly over his cock, pushing three fingers inside Louis to makes use of the extra. Louis makes a noise, a cut-off sort of grunt, and rocks his hips gently against the mattress.

“None of that, don't touch yourself either.” Harry demands, stabbing his fingers in harder. He jerks himself off slowly with his opposite hand, adding a touch more lube before extracting his fingers. He leans his body over Louis’ back, positioning himself and pushing inside of Louis in one swift, harsh movement.

Louis’ immediate reaction is to push his face further into the pillow, efficiently muffling the long, drawn out moan that escapes his throat. Harry doesn't let his adjust, fucking into the boy without a care. His focus barrels down to nothing but the tight pressure around his dick, and he finds his hips moving at their own accord. Louis feels like he can't get air into his lungs, his whole body feeling overheated.

Harry keeps one arm around Louis' waist to pull their hips flush while the other holds himself up, lips pursed as he fucks in fast and deep. Louis' already close again, can feel the familiar tug in his abdomen and the teasing pleasure of his prostate being hit. Harry’s not doing much better, always comes so fast when he’s drunk. Louis’ hands are clenched tightly to the sheets, his breathing shallow as he comes on a particular hard thrust.

Harry thrusts in deep, the boy clenching tight around him, and has enough sense to at least pull out before he’s coming all over Louis’ lower back. Louis a mess, shivering uncontrollably as Harry pulls away, still trying to get his breathing even. Harry shudders a little, running his thumb over his slit once before tucking himself back into his briefs. He takes a moment to admire his work, smirking at the come still covering the shaking boy.

It takes a few minutes for Louis to recover, and he sits back on his knees, grimacing at the mess. Harry silently gets off the bed, grabbing the towel that is hanging off his desk chair and throwing it at Louis. He wipes himself down quickly, moving to tug his clothes back on as soon as he’s decently clean.

“Where are you going?” Harry questions as soon as Louis starts to make his way to the door. Louis pauses, combing his messy fringe to the side.

“I don’t know. Just figured you’d want me out.”

“I don't want you out of my sight, don't need more randoms in my room.” Harry states, his eyes sharp.

“So stay in your room. Doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Louis mutters, hand still poised on the doorknob.

“You're not going back out there. Sit.” Harry orders, getting off the bed and making his way over to Louis.

“You’re so bloody bossy. It’s not hot,” Louis huffs, dropping his hand and crossing his arms. Harry's inches away from Louis, glaring down at the boy when he doesn't look up from where he's staring at the floor.

“Whatever,” Louis says when Harry is still silent. “I need to sit down, my vision’s starting to go all wonky. Too much vodka.”

“Lay down, I'm going to go get some water.” Harry mutters, making sure Louis does as he told him to before leaving the room quickly. Harry feels a little hazy himself but he makes it downstairs, managing to avoid talking to anyone as he grabs two bottles of water from the kitchen. He grabs a pack of Oreos from the cabinet before heading back upstairs. Later he’ll get chewed out because they’re definitely Andy’s Oreos, but that’s an issue for another day.

Louis is laying down on the bed shirtless when Harry gets back, an arm thrown over his eyes. Harry trudges over to the bed, tossing a water bottle onto his chest and startling him into lifting up his head. Louis takes the bottle without a word, taking a long drink before stealing the packages of cookies.

Harry lets him, sitting cross-legged on the bed and sipping his own water languidly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, the music from downstairs thumping through the floorboards. Harry feels a bit better after drinking the water, tired but not nearly as woozy. Louis sets the cookies on the nightstand and pulls the duvet off the floor, laying it across his body. He groans and rolls over onto his belly, face buried in the pillow and arms folded underneath him. He feels Harry get off the bed and shut the light off before coming back and sliding in next to Louis, stealing a part of the duvet.

The next thing either of them knows is blinding sunlight and a particular Irish voice, along with what Harry believes is actually two frying pans being clapped together.

“Rise and shine, number seventeen, got a big game to practice for - oh, _hello_ , Tomlinson.”

-

The practice goes better than usual, Harry and Louis still in a weird limbo from the night before. The whole team keeps sending them smug or curious looks every time they get within three feet of each other. They’ve definitely been doing better recently anyway, but even Cowell seems impressed with how well they’re working today in particular. They've scored seven goals in the past hour between the two of them, communicating well and even going as far as to complement one another on a nice pass.

“Looks like you two worked hard on coordination, eh?” Niall comments smugly during a five minute break.

“Shut it Horan,” Harry scoffs with an eye roll, not in the mood for even his best friend’s teasing.

“But hey, you guys are doing a bang up job, so. I guess keep doing what you’re doing,” Niall says, clapping him on the back and winking.

Harry skates over to where Louis is standing alone, drinking from his water jug. Louis has been unusually quiet all day, his eyes soft and his hair laying flat on his forehead. Louis glances at him from the corner of his eye, lowering his jug and flicking a fallen piece of fringe away from his face.

“You okay?” Harry can't help but ask, not letting any emotion show on his face. Louis raises his eyebrows, like he’s confused Harry’s even speaking to him.

“You care?” He snorts, twisting the cap on his water jug.

“Just wondering, you're-” Harry waves his hand around lamely, hoping Louis will understand.

“I’m fine. Just...got myself into complicated shit and trying to figure it out,” Louis responds.

“Alright.” Harry nods, wanting to press the boy but not wanting to have Louis think he cares. Turns out he doesn’t have time to do either, because coach is blowing the whistle and issuing them back on the ice.

The rest of practice goes by without incident, couch having them all get with their partners to do two on two scrimmages. He and Louis continue working together easily, effortlessly beating Liam and Andy by a good amount within the allotted time frame. Coach tells them all to get a good nights rest since they are leaving early in the morning to head to LA for their next game. They’ve got an eight hour flight that leaves at four the following morning, so Liam repeats the advice to the team as they all change in the locker room. Everyone mutters their promises, getting into the showers or just changing to head home.

“Mine or yours tonight?” Louis asks Harry, muffled by the shirt he’s currently pulling over his head. A few players within earshot snicker, earning glares their way.

“We can go to mine.” Harry replies, tying his trainers. Louis nods and shrugs on a hoodie, leaving it unzipped as he shoulders his bag. They head out to Harry's car with Niall and Zayn, stopping at a pizza place to get something to eat before heading back to the frat.

Louis’ still pretty quiet, and Zayn’s doting on him like a mother, so Harry’s convinced something’s up. When they get to the frat house Zayn takes Louis to the back porch without a word to Niall or Harry, which causes an ugly feeling to stir inside Harry. It’s just this pull in his belly, same as anything, like when he’s hungry or sick and angry, something that makes him want to follow them with arms crossed over his chest. He heads into his bedroom to change into a pair of joggers and t shirt, trying not to feel irritated in the silence.

Louis returns shortly, lightly padding into Harry’s room. Harry ignores him at first, sitting down on the bed with his phone as Louis’ changes.

“You want to play Call of Duty or something? I can go steal it from Niall’s room-”

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry cuts him off, unable to keep it in.

“Nothing,” Louis replies too quickly, not meeting Harry's eye.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” Harry comments, and when Louis is silent, he adds, “I'm just asking, Louis. Not trying to be a dick.”

“It's nothing, you wouldn't understand.” Louis sighs, shaking his head as he pulls his sweater sleeves over his hands. Harry wants to push, but Louis’ getting tetchy and he doesn’t feel like fighting, so he decides to drop it.

“Wanna play FIFA for a bit?” Harry asks, picking up the controllers. Louis looks strangely relieved, and he takes the controller that Harry offers him. They play for a few hours, not talking much besides to curse every so often when they miss a goal or get tackled. Louis’ not even really trying but he kicks Harry’s ass anyway, grinning triumphantly at his win.

“Shut up,” Harry huffs when Louis continues to gloat about his win.

“Aw, Styles, if you want we can play Barbie Dress-Up next, I'm sure you'll win - ow,” Louis rubs his arm where Harry had whacked him lightly with his controller.

“We need to go to bed.” Harry states as he stands up, changing the subject easily.

“Wh - I don’t want to,” Louis pouts childishly, shoulders slumping.

“It wasn't a question Louis.” Harry replies, giving Louis a pointed look.

“Speak for yourself. I don’t want to be wide awake for an eight-hour flight,” Louis huffs.

“Do you really think coach is going to let you sleep on the plane? We are going over the game plan and probably doing team building shit the whole way there.” Harry responds, standing up from the ground.

“In case you don’t remember I’ve done a bloody away game or two back before I had to deal with your sorry arse all the time. I know what works for me,” Louis snaps, rolling his eyes. Harry’s jaw tightens as he stares down at Louis, making the boy feel incredibly small even if he would never admit it. They stare at each other for a long minute, tension ringing in the air.

“We're going to bed.” Harry states firmly, trying his best not to grit his teeth.

“Not tired,” Louis snips, staying put. Harry lets out a noise similar to a growl, bending down to quickly pull Louis from the floor and into his arms. He ignores the boy’s shout of protest as he yanks back the cover to the bed and sets Louis down none too gently.

“God, fuck off,” Louis groans, getting pushed straight back down when he tries to sit up again. Harry quickly shuts off the light before Louis can even think about trying to get up, getting in next to the squirming boy and throwing an arm over him to keep him immobile. He feels Louis’ chest rising and falling underneath it, quick after his attempts to protest.

“Are you done?” Harry asks in a bored tone.

“No,” Louis denies, smug. “Gonna have to tire me out, I guess.”

“Fine.” Harry responds with a shrug, pushing himself up from the bed to grab a belt from his closet. He makes eye contact with Louis as he does, who’s staring at him looking like sin with wide eyes and his shirt riding halfway up his belly from all the wrestling, but Harry doesn’t let himself dwindle too much on that.

“What are-what are you doing?” Louis stutters, his eyes not leaving Harry as the boy comes closer.

“Just tiring you out. I guess,” Harry mimics from earlier, voice slow and mocking and enough to send a flush up Louis’ neck. Louis scrambled up as soon as Harry steps next to the bed, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as he backs up against the wall. Harry smirks and sits down, belt buckle clanking as he does.

“Sit.” Harry orders simply, wrapping the belt around his hand once. Louis blinks, and then he does, doesn’t even try to tell him to fuck off like Harry was prepared for. Harry licks his lips, wondering how far he can push Louis.

“Clothes off.”

Louis does that too, a little hesitantly, like he’s actually shy. He’s got this innocent, wide-eyed expression and Harry instantly knows he’s playing him right back. When the boy is down to only his briefs Harry stands from the bed, moving so he's towering over Louis. He watches Louis swallow, itching to just turn him over and fuck into him like last time. Harry leans down and grabs Louis’ hands in one of his, pulling them above his head as he pushes Louis onto his back. Louis lets out the tiniest whimper, going easily when Harry pushes him down. He wraps the belt around Louis’ wrist, making sure they're tight enough to keep Louis in place but not enough to really hurt him before looping the end of the belt through the bed post.

“Jesus,” Louis breathes, flexing his wrists inside his restraints. Harry hums, satisfied with his work.

“Okay?” He has to ask, just to be sure. Louis nods, his chest already moving up and down rapidly as Harry moves to straddle his thighs. He ducks down to mouth at Louis’ neck, heat radiating off his skin and it’s intoxicating. He can already feel Louis tenting up his briefs where his stomach is pressing down on the boy, his own cock taking an interest in the situation. His hands flit down Louis’ sides, feeling him shudder under the attention. He sucks dark, purple bruises into the boy’s skin as he travels down to the line of Louis’ briefs, biting at the soft skin around his hips and stomach.

“If this is supposed to exhaust me,” Louis starts, breathless. “You’re not doing a very good job.”

“Forgot what a mouth you had, should have gagged you instead.” Harry mutters.

“I’ll shut up all by myself if you get to it, Styles,” Louis says, nudging Harry with his knee. And well, Harry’s not one to turn down a challenge. He works Louis’ briefs down past his thighs, his cock lying hard against his hip. Louis bites his lips as Harry stares down at him, his curls falling into his face and his eyes blown wide with lust. Harry takes him into his mouth slowly, fingers teasing down the crease where his thigh meets his crotch.

“Harry,” Louis whines, kicking his legs out. Harry swirls his tongue around the head of Louis’ cock, hand drifting lower. Harry takes the head into his mouth as his hand goes down to run over Louis’ hole teasingly. Louis jumps at the contact, letting out a noise halfway between a whimper and a please. Harry smirks the best he can around Louis, pressing the tip of his thumb inside of Louis.

“You’re such a fucking - fuck,” Louis hisses, fists clenched as Harry takes him deeper. Harry chuckles around Louis and pushes his thumb in deeper, his throat relaxing to take Louis down as far as he can. Sucking dick is kind of Harry’s forte, and it shows by the way Louis’ writhing and whimpering above him. He loves how desperate Louis is like this, letting Harry touch him and play with him however he wants.

He keeps it up, bobbing his head up and down and occasionally pushing his thumb past Louis’ rim, until Louis is babbling gonna come gonna come gonna come and Harry pulls off.

“No,” Louis gasps, not seeming to be able to help himself. Harry smirks to himself, parted lips resting against Louis’ thigh. Louis whimpers softly, turning his head to the side and biting the skin of his arm.

“Tired yet?” Harry asks, faux innocently just to be a shit.

“I hate you.” Louis moans brokenly, trying his best to kick Harry.

“I know, baby,” Harry mutters back, voice dripping with sarcasm, but it must do something to Louis because he arches high enough to hit Harry in the cheek with his cock. Harry tuts and pushes Louis’ hips back down, running his hand over the smooth skin once he's sure Louis won't move again.

“Goddammit, Harry, will you just fucking touch me,” Louis groans, wrists rubbing against his restraints. Harry gives a quick slap to the inside of Louis' thigh with a sigh.

“Quiet, you'll get whatever I decide to give you.”

He doesn’t touch Louis’ cock, but he’s sure to keep him hard and on his toes, mouthing at his sensitive inner thighs and playing with his hole. The boy’s a whining mess, can't stop thrashing around or keep any noise at bay. Not that Harry is really complaining. He knows the walls are thin and that his brothers will definitely be giving him shit later, but that only makes it hotter for him.

Harry shuffles around till he's close enough to see Louis’ eyes, bringing his hand up to Louis’ mouth and pushing three of his fingers in without warning. Louis moans around them, then moans louder when Harry slips his other hand down to stroke his cock. Harry pumps his fingers in and out fast, making Louis gag every time he pushes in too far. It’s so fucking hot to watch, and Harry finds himself infatuated with watching Louis’ thin pink lips around his fingers. He sticks his pinky finger in alongside the others, his cock twisting as he watches Louis’ mouth stretch to take more of his hand. He ruts down against Louis’ leg, so hard he can’t help it. He feels Louis shake under him, his eyes fluttering closed as he comes hard into Harry's hand. It doesn’t take much for Harry to follow suit, already so worked up that he manages to come in his pants after just a few well-aimed thrusts against Louis’ thigh.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes out, resting his forehead against Louis’ chest as he tries to catch his breath. He wipes his spit-slick fingers absently on the sheets and pulls his come-covered one up. He grimaces at how dirty he is, heaving himself up and off the bed to head to the bathroom to clean himself up.

“Harry, seriously?” Louis huffs after him, still tied to the bed and covered in his own spit and come.

“Oops,” Harry mutters, shuffling back to the bed and undoing the belt from Louis’ wrist.

“Dick,” Louis mumbles, but for once there’s no bite behind it as he rolls his eyes and sits up. He rubs at his wrists gently where the skin has started to turn red, which makes Harry frown. He cleans his hands off with an old towel before grabbing a bottle of lotion from his nightstand.

“C’mere,” He murmurs, sitting cross-legged on the bed, and beckoning for Louis to come closer. Louis hesitates for a second before doing as told, crawling over to where Harry was sitting. Harry squeezes a dollop of lotion into his left hand and holds his right out for Louis to give him his wrists, the older boy looking perplexed as he does as much. Harry gently rubs the lotion in Louis’ skin, taking his time in making sure every inch of redden skin was covered.

“Thanks,” Louis says slowly after Harry’s finished, still looking at Harry like he’s waiting for the catch.

“I'm gonna shower, you can join me if you want.” Harry says in reply, standing from the bed. Louis doesn’t say anything, but he gets up and trails after nonetheless. Harry pulls out two towels and sets them both on the counter before turning on the shower to heat up the water while Louis peels off his ruined briefs. Harry steps in after stripping off and Louis follows, the two of them rinsing off quickly and quietly. They finish up fast, both wrapping themselves up in towels before heading back to Harry's room to get ready for bed.

Louis collapses straight onto the bed, still arse naked and mumbling about being tired. Harry pulls on a pair of clean boxers and draps both off their towels over the back of his desk chair. He tosses a pair of shorts at Louis, running a comb through his already curling hair. He flicks off the lights once he's done and crawls into bed next to Louis. He smirks a little at Louis’ sleepy complaints, the smaller boy’s eyes already drooping. Harry pulled the duffle over his body and rested an arm under his head, closing his eyes to hopefully go right to sleep.

-

They get to the bus in the morning with little trouble. Louis’ too tired to complain much, dozing against the car window as Harry drives them to the bus stop. When they arrive Louis refuses to wake up, curling in on himself as he tries to block Harry out of his slumber. It’s really only out of spite when Harry rounds the car and scoops him out of his seat, none too gently at that, but Louis curls right up and sniffs against his shoulder, which, okay. Harry ignores all of the looks and wolf whistles the other boys throw them as he climbs onto the bus, setting Louis into the seat next to the window and trying not to move too much when Louis rest his head on his shoulder.

“We’ve so got this one,” He hears Niall from across the aisle, way too chipper for four in the morning. Harry rolls his eyes at his teammates and pulls out a blue blanket from his bag to drape across Louis’ sleeping form.

The ride to the airport isn’t long, and it’s quiet for once, most of the team either dozing or chatting amongst themselves in low murmurs. Louis still hasn't woken up by the time the bus comes to a stop, which leaves Harry to carry him into the airport while he has Niall and Zayn carry their bags.

“Can’t haul you through security, babe,” Harry murmurs to Louis once they’ve reached the metal detectors. Louis whines at the statement but let's Harry put him down long enough for both of them to walk through security. They go through the rest quickly, running their carry-ons through security and then heading for their terminal. Once they are seated on the plane Louis takes the blanket Harry had stuffed back into his bag and wraps it tightly around himself, snuggling down into the seat to sleep more. Harry takes out his laptop and begins to catch up on some schoolwork, earphones plugged in.

The flight is long and boring, two things Louis doesn't seem to be able to handle very well since the moment he woke up he's been a pain in the ass for Harry.

“Can I watch a movie?” He asks for the third time, and Harry shakes his head for the third time, smacking Louis’ hand away when he starts to poke him.

“Go back to sleep.” Harry sighs, annoyed that the boy keeps trying to steal his laptop.

“You sleep, grumpy. You’re not even doing anything important,” Louis whines. Harvs, who is sat on the aisle seat on the other side of Harry, makes a gagging sound.

“If I let you watch a movie will you shut the fuck up?” Harry snaps half heartedly.

“Yes,” Louis says immediately. “Hundred percent. Won’t make a peep.”

They end up watching Fight Club since it's the only movie on Harry's laptop they could agree on, both of them sharing the earphones. Of course Louis doesn’t keep his promise, but Harry doesn’t mind all that much so long as he’s not whining. Harry sees his teammates whispering, trying to at least, about Louis and him. Some of his brothers telling the others about what they heard last night. He wishes they’d all mind their own fucking business, honestly, so what if he and Louis hooked up a couple of times. It's not like it's a big deal, they're in college, casual hookups is like a way of life. Besides, Harry’s made out with like, three of his teammates not including Louis when intoxicated, and no one ever read into it like this.

“Hey Styles, catch.” One of the seniors on the team say before a line of small square packages is being thrown at his chest. Louis looks up from the screen at the disturbance, eyes zeroing in on the strip of rubbers now in an annoyed Harry’s lap.

“We don't even use those.” Louis mutters to himself, picking them up and throwing them back over the seat. Harry hears the boys guffawing obnoxiously, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the movie. Once their movie is done Louis stands up to stretch and use the bathroom, leaving Harry to pack away the laptop.

“So H, you gonna join the mile high club or what?” Andy asks, turning around in his seat.

“Might just to give you pervs something else to jerk off to,” Harry grumbles, flipping him the finger as he tucks his laptop in his bag.

“Oh after last night I don't think we'd need much more.” Andy replies, making the other boys listening snicker.

“You’re such a dick. Why do you pay so much attention?” Harry groans. He needs a drink.

“Thin walls bro, Tommo isn't the quietest.” Andy shrugs.

“You’re telling me,” Harry mutters to himself. Louis returns then, pushing past Harry’s knees rather rudely before flopping into his seat.

“Entertain me.” Louis demands, resting his head on Harry's shoulder with a dramatic sigh. Harry nudges him away, rolling his eyes because Louis makes himself impossible to ignore.

“Harold,” Louis whines, practically climbing into Harry's lap to try and get the younger boy to pay attention to him.

“You’re so annoying,” Harry sighs, squirming as the other boys continue their snickering.

“If you weren't so boring and actually able to-”

“I'm going to throw you out of the plane I swear-”

“Don't be rude you can't even open the doors unless-”

“Go fuck already I'm trying to sleep.” Zayn cuts in from behind them.

“Zayn,” Louis gasps like he’s done him a great injustice, giving Harry the opportunity to shove him towards the window.

“Rude,” Louis huffs as he rubs the elbow that had hit the wall.

“Gonna tie you up again if you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” Harry whispers, apparently not as quiet as he was going for judging by the catcalls nearby.

“Damn Styles,” Andy whistles, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of them.

“Taking a nap now,” Harry mutters, cheeks flushing as he tugs his beanie further down over his ears. Louis pouts at that, pawing at Harry's arm as the boy pulls the blanket over his lap.

“Go away,” Harry mumbles, tucking his earbuds in his ears.

“Can I jerk you off?” Louis asks, his voice low so the others won't hear them.

“What? No,” Harry answers incredulously, tugging the blanket higher. Louis sticks his bottom lip out in a pout, scooching closer to Harry.

“Please? No one’ll even know,” He says, fingers drumming on Harry's thigh.

“You're a fucking menace.” Harry hisses through his teeth, forcefully grabbing Louis’ hand but not moving it.

“Wouldn’t you like them to know what we’re up to? I know you get off on that weird shit,” Louis mutters low in his ear.

“You're gonna pay for this later.” Harry bites out, glaring hard at the boy.

“I like the sound of that,” Louis grins, Harry releasing his grip on Louis’ hand and propping his left leg up on the seat in front of him to mask the movement under the blanket.

“Get on with it.” Harry mutters with a shake of his head, leaning back in his seat. Louis’ hand curls around the crotch of Harry’s joggers, the boy wiggling closer to appear less obvious.

“So, what are you gonna do to me later?” Louis asks casually, leaning his head against the seat as his eyes lock with Harry's.

“I’d spank you but we can’t have you sore. Have to think about it,” Harry answers, sentences clipped as Louis rubs him through his pants.

“You'd do that? Bend me over your knee till I was-” Louis has to stop himself from saying anything else. Not wanting Harry to know just how much the idea got him going.

“Yeah, I would,” Harry murmurs anyway. “Maybe when we’re off season. Tonight, though, might have to just fuck you slow. Not let you come.”

“So you get to come twice today and I don't get to at all?” Louis replies with a slight frown.

“Nobody asked you to do this. You can stop if you want,” Harry says, head cocked to the side as he looks at Louis. Louis doesn't reply, turning his eyes down as his hand continues to work over Harry's length.

“I’d probably let you come. Eventually. Make you work for it, though,” Harry amends. “Could you be good for me, Lou?”

Louis nods his head twice, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Harry’s getting hard now, Louis’ hand coaxing his cock to life. Harry shifts slightly in his seat, making sure the blanket stays in place. Louis rubs along the growing length in his pants, hand jerking him through the material until he’s fully hard. Harry tries his best to act as unaffected as possible, closing his eyes and leaning back farther into his seat.

He can’t help the shudder that runs through him when Louis discreetly spits into his hand and then reaches into his pants, taking him into his hand. Harry bites back a groan at the touch, chewing on his lip as Louis drags his hand over his length. Louis jerks him slow, keeping his movements discrete so none of the guys give them looks.

Louis moves closer slightly till his head is tucked into Harry's neck, his hot breath fanning over Harry's skin. Harry feels hot all over, suddenly regretting his decision to wear two shirts. Louis attaches his lips to the spot under Harry's jaw, sucking on the skin lightly as his tongue pokes out to tease the boy.

“S’good,” Harry comments lightly, keeping his voice down. Louis’ going a little faster now, thumbing at Harry’s slit on every upstroke. Louis hums at the praise, nipping at the flushed skin a few times. Harry feels his orgasm building slowly but surely, skin so hot he’s scared to know how flushed he looks. He already knows the hickey Louis is working on is going to give the boys even more teasing material, but can't seem to care too much at the moment.

Harry lets out a shaky breath, hand tightening where it’s gripping his knee.

“Do you think anyone would notice if I ducked under the blanket for a bit?” Louis asks softly.

“Yes,” Harry chuckles breathlessly, opening his glassy eyes.

“Well it's going to be pretty noticeable when I walk to the loo with a hand full of your come.” Louis replies with a smirk.

“Napkin?” Harry offers lamely, knee jerking involuntary on a particularly hard stroke.

“Got one handy?” Louis asks, biting at Harry's ear playfully.

“Check my, um, my bag. Probably have something,” Harry stutters, feeling himself getting close as Louis keeps jerking him. Louis leans down to pick through Harry's bag, his hand never stopping it's movements.

“You might wanna hurry,” Harry huffs out, closing his eyes again as he tries not to groan out. He has to practically shove his whole fist into his mouth when Louis gives his cock a hard squeeze, his thumb teasing over the head at the same time. Louis’ definitely going slow on purpose, Harry had over packed by about five t-shirts and he could have grabbed any one of them by now to clean up the mess that’s seconds from happening.

“Louis,” Harry hisses through his teeth, his hand gripping his knee hard enough to turn it white. Finally Louis resurfaces with one of Harry’s facial towelettes, beaming as Harry bites his tongue against a snarky remark, only because if he opens his mouth he might moan out loud. Louis makes himself comfortable against Harry's side again and let's his other hand slip under the blanket, jerking Harry off with both hands now.

By some miracle Harry manages to last for another minute or so, then comes with a grunt that he covers with a cough. Louis works him through it, catching as much as he can into the towelette. Harry barely has a second to catch his breath before Louis wipes up any remnants and tucks him back into his pants. Louis pats Harry twice on the cheek with a small grin before standing up and crawling over Harry to get out of the seat. Harry looks around, no one appearing to have noticed their little endeavor. He breathes out, and thinks, maybe an eight hour flight with Louis isn’t so bad after all.

-

They touch down around eleven and head straight for the hotel they will be staying at. Coach assigns their room numbers on the short shuttle ride there, and they’re all obviously assigned double rooms with their partners. Harry and Louis get catcalls as they are handed their room key, someone voicing up the fact they won't need two beds.

“Come on,” Harry urges Louis, voice low and irritated. Louis follows silently, his bag strung over his shoulder and his hockey bag in hand.

“Fuck, they’re so annoying. Acting like we’re boyfriends or some shit,” Harry huffs as they walk to the elevator.

“Well, it probably seems like we are. To them at least.” Louis replies, his words mumbled.

“That’s ridiculous. We’ve hardly had a civilized conversation. Just because we get off sometimes doesn’t mean there’s feelings involved,” Harry argues.

“Right.” Louis nods, his voice slightly bitter though Harry doesn't pick up on it as he shoved the key card into the slot to open the door.

The hotel room is average, nice but nothing too fancy. There’s two beds, a small flatscreen, an en suite, mini fridge, coffee machine, all typical necessities. Harry throws his bags onto the first bed, kicking off his shoes rather aggressively before stating that he was going to go shower. It’s obvious he doesn’t want Louis with him, so he doesn’t even bother asking as he sets his things on the opposite bed.

Louis leaves the lights off and pushes his things onto the floor to crawl under the covers in hopes to get a nap in before having to head to the stadium. He’s got a headache from the airplane and from Harry acting like a prat and he wishes he had a Zayn to cuddle with. He send the boy a text to ask if he can come over, not getting a reply but a knock on the door a minute later.

“Alright, Lou?” Zayn instantly asks when Louis opens the door, concern laced through his features. Louis shakes his head slowly and pulls Zayn into the room, pushing himself in Zayn’s space for a much needed hug. Zayn inches further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him as he holds Louis tight.

“Pretty boys are poison.” Louis sniffles into Zayn’s neck, letting the boy lay him down on the bed.

“Aw, babe. He do something to you? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Zayn questions, keeping his voice low. The shower’s running so it’s not likely Harry can hear anyway, but Louis appreciates the precaution.

“We like, we hook up and he like-he’s sweet at time but also rough which I like but then he turns around and acts like a prat and I'm just so bloody confused. Why do I like him?” Louis whines pathetically, burying his face into Zayn’s chest.

“You haven’t tried, like, talking to him about it?” Zayn asks, not judging, just curious.

“No he practically hates me, he'd never want to date me. He was so annoyed at the the boys teasing us, like he was disgusted with the idea of dating me.” Louis replies, not looking up from Zayn’s chest.

“You’re going to think this is lame, but I think you two need to have a conversation. He might just be acting disgusted because he thinks you hate him too,” Zayn reasons, stroking Louis back lightly.

“But what if he doesn't? What if I tell him I like him and he fucks me over?” Louis responds, clinging to Zayn harder.

“I could try and figure out what he’s thinking, if you’d like. I just think - I know you probably don’t want the hooking up to stop, but I think what you’re doing right now is self-deprecating, and confusing. I don’t wanna see you hurt in the long run, Lou.”

“I know, I get so in my head whenever he does stuff to me. Makes me feel funny.” Louis confesses.

“Someone should just knock some sense into his head. You’re a catch,” Zayn jokes, pinching Louis’ cheek playfully.

“We all know you're in love with me Malik, you just have to find the ball to tell me.” Louis giggles, a voice in the doorway catching his attention.

“Oh. Hey, Malik,” Harry says, hair wet and towel slinking from his waist.

“Hey mate,” Zayn nods, his fingers running through Louis’ hair gently. Something flashes across Harry’s features, but it’s gone just as quickly, and he gives Zayn the same warm smile he gives everyone except Louis, apparently.

“Niall still in your guys room?” Harry questions, pulling on a pair of briefs and joggers.

“Unless he sniffed out some hot chicks in the past ten minutes I’ve been here, yes,” Zayn answers. Harry chuckles at that and grabs a shirt from his bag to slip over his head.

“Alright well I'm going to go down there and see what he's up to. Later.”

Louis watches the door shut, commenting, “He was acting weird.”

“What do you mean?” Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. He just seemed off. Maybe I’ve just been spending too much time with him,” Louis shrugs it off.

“Maybe he's jealous.” Zayn shrugs, making Louis scoff. He does not think of the time Harry flipped his shit after walking in on Louis with a boy at the party.

“Why would he be jealous?”

“Because you two are hooking up and I'm cuddling you in bed.” Zayn points out.

“I mean. It would make sense except for the fact that he told me literally fifteen minutes ago that he basically has no feelings for me.”

“I think he's a lying cunt.” Zayn replies bluntly.

“You've been spending too much time with Niall, you're starting to swear like him.”

“Whatever. Harry’s way too obsessed with you to possibly not have any feelings at all. Maybe he just hasn't realized.”

“How do you not realize you have feelings for someone?” Louis groans.

“Dunno, Lou. He’s probably confused, or something. You should really talk to him,” Zayn says softly.

“I’ll think about it.” Louis sighs, his eyes closing. Zayn doesn’t say anything, just strokes his hair languidly.

Louis ends up falling asleep cuddled up to Zayn, not waking up till ten minutes before they have to leave for the stadium. They meet with the team in the lobby with their bags slung across their shoulders, where coach is doing headcount.

Harry and Niall are talking to Liam in the corner, Zayn having to grab Louis hand to get him to move over to them. Louis gives Zayn a look when Harry doesn’t even acknowledge him, just briefly glances his way and resumes whatever he’s saying to Niall. Louis rests his head against Zayn’s shoulder, still tired from the time difference and the drowsiness of his nap.

Coach finishes up headcount, giving them the same spiel he always does for away games. When they get ready to board the bus Zayn takes Louis’ bag from him and leads the boy outside. The bus is waiting, and of course Coach assigns them to sit with their partners, so Zayn kisses Louis’ hair and runs off to find Niall. Louis flops down in the seat closest to the window and pushes his bag under his feet before curling up to rest his head against the window. He feels a weight sit down next to him, and refuses to look when a hand wraps around his thigh for a brief second, pats twice, and then goes away. Harry doesn't say anything for the first five minutes of the ride, but Louis can feel his eyes on him.

“What's with you and Zayn?” Harry says, breaking the silence between them.

“What? We’re friends,” Louis answers, furrowing his eyebrows at Harry before turning away again.

“Looked like a little more than friends.” Harry replies, his voice edging on annoyed.

“Yeah, well. You and I are a little less than friends, and we still fuck, so. Doesn’t really matter what it looks like,” Louis snorts, shaking his head at the window.

“Are you fucking him too?” Harry asks harshly, his eyes burning a hole into Louis’ head.

“That’s actually none of your business, Harry, but if you must know, I’m not fucking Zayn. He’s my best friend, you tit,” Louis snaps. Harry's jaw tightens, his hands twitching like he wants to grab Louis and put him in his place. For a second Louis kind of wishes he would, but then remembers Harry’s a giant twat who is disgusted by the prospect of being with him, and the fight leaves him and he just feels sad all over again.

“Just fuck off will you?” Louis mutters, bringing his knees up closer to his chest. He feels so fucking used, now that he’s got his mind out of the gutter and is finally taking into account how Harry treats him. Harry puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder, his grip tight enough to hurt and the whole ordeal makes Louis just want to sob into his legs.

“Don’t - _fucking touch me_ , okay,” He manages fingers wrapping tight around his own ankles as he struggles to keep his voice steady.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Not like you were fucking complaining when I carried you all of this fucking morning.” Harry hisses, not taking his hand off Louis’ shoulder.

“You’re such an asshole, fuck, you do something nice for me and then you think, what, you think you can throw me around and treat me like shit and put your stupid hands all over me like - like you own me or something? _Fuck you_ ,” Louis spits, fighting to keep his voice down so he doesn’t attract the team’s attention.

“Not like you had a problem with it last night, or at the party. Or does sex have to be involved for you to be interested in anything? Begging me to let you jerk me off on the plane, begging to be fucked when we get back tonight. You're just a slut for anything anyone will give you.” Harry bites back, his words bringing Louis even closer to tears.

“Wow, okay. Well how’s this, I don’t want you to touch me, sexually or otherwise, not right now. Not ever, even. So don’t. You don’t know shit.” Louis’ almost positive his voice is shaking as he speaks, but he doesn’t even care at the moment.

The bus comes to a stop outside the stadium and Louis has never been more grateful for Simon screaming at them to get their asses in gear and off the bus. The team’s not any louder than usual pre-game, but all the hollering is giving Louis a fucking headache, and he stands and shoves past Harry faster than he’s ever done anything, probably. He latches himself onto Zayn as soon as they get into the locker room, pulling him around the corner quickly and trying not to burst into tears.

He has a game to win.

-

Harry doesn’t need to be on the ice to know that this is going to be a shit game. They’re pretty close in skill to Seattle, statistically speaking, but that’s when both teams are at their best. Seattle seems to be doing pretty damn fine, which only causes the anger boiling inside of Harry to progress because they are sucking right now. They’re almost halfway through the first period and it’s two to zero, the entire team is unfocused, and Coach is absolutely livid. Harry had only been in the game for two minutes before Couch pulled him out, Louis and James trying to work together but not syncing up right.

Harry sits on the bench bouncing his leg, watching the disaster on the ice and three seconds from marching on the court to take out the asshole who keeps backing Louis into the corner, game be damned. He makes eye contact with James, trying to silently tell him to help Louis out so he can fucking score for them.

The thing is, this game is really important, like really fucking important. They’re not necessarily done for if they lose, but it puts them that much closer. Harry's on the edge of his seat when Louis finally manages to get the puck, skating as fast as he can down the rink while Liam yells to James to cover him. Harry can’t even watch, convinced Louis’ just going to muck it up, but the cheers he hears from the players sat next to him tell him otherwise. When he looks up Louis hasn’t scored yet, but he’s getting there, at least, lining up to taking his shot with no opposing players close enough to block him. James practically tackles the player skating straight for Louis just as he takes the shot, the buzzer going off signaling a goal.

Harry breathes out a sigh. They’re still not doing good but at least they’re on the board, and it’s only the first period. There’s plenty of time for them to catch up, but first they have to get it the fuck together.

“Coach, you got to put me back in.” Harry pleads, catching the man's attention for a brief second. He starts to wave him off, but then James misses a pass and he seems to rethink it.

“I want to see goals, Styles. I can’t take this bullshit right now,” He says harshly, turning his body halfway towards Harry but not looking away from the ice.

“Promise couch, we're gonna win this.” Harry nods hard. Cowell narrows his eyes at the court, his eyes following Louis.

“What'd you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Harry answers defensively, frowning and too antsy to get on the ice to pay attention to the conversation.

“If we lose because you two can't work through whatever shit you have going on, you can kiss a spot on the team next season goodbye.” Cowell threatens, not even looking at Harry as he speaks. Harry blinks, never having been faced with the threat so directly. It feels like a lot of pressure, one slip-up and all his chances of getting drafted are gone.

“Get your ass on the ice, Styles.” Cowell orders, signaling for James to come off.

Harry’s quick to do so, getting the okay from the ref before skating into position. Louis doesn't look at him and Harry already knows they're screwed if he can't get the boy to work with him. He makes a note to attempt to speak to him as soon as he gets a chance, but for now he’s busy fighting to keep the puck on their side. They end up scoring once more thanks to Harry with an assist from Liam, tying them up just as the buzzer rings to signal the second period.

“Boys, you’re doing okay,” Coach says during their fifteen-minute intermission, stony look on his features. “I don’t want to see okay. Okay is not going to get us to finals. By the end of the period, you better be crushing their asses, or out next practice is going to be hell for all of you.”

Coach looks straight at Harry as he says this, making him squirm under the attention and his skin itch. He talks a little more, using very colorful language, and then dismisses them to get a drink. This gives Harry the chance to approach Louis, which he does skittishly, aware of Cowell’s eyes on them. Louis won't look up at him, his eyes fixed on the water bottle in his hands.

“Tomlinson,” Harry says, voice wavering as he speaks.

“I don't wanna hear it Harry, just leave me alone.” Louis sighs.

“Please, I really need you to work with me. Coach is pissed, he thinks I did something to you -”

“Fuck you, Harry, if you’re going to pretend you’re not a total fucking -” Coach cuts him off with the whistle, the thirty-second warning sounding.

“We're gonna get kicked off the team if we lose this game.” Harry blurts out, grabbing onto Louis’ wrist as he starts to walk away.

“What? He can’t do that, that’s not -” Harry can see that Louis starts to panic a little, his eyes wide.

“He's said if we can't get our shit together we can kiss next season goodbye.” Harry states, watching Cowell stare at the two of them from a crossed the room.

“Then get your arse on the ice and let’s fucking win,” Louis huffs. Harry can't help but roll his eyes in annoyance at Louis, sick of the boy acting like this. Coach is shouting at them to get their asses on the ice, so Harry turns and can only hope Louis will work with him.

Louis ends up scoring three minutes into the next period, his shot borderline illegal but just on the right side of not. Only Seattle manages their own shot within the same minute, and another not even three minutes later. That’s the point where Harry really starts to panic, because this game could be it for him, and he’s not going out like this. He’s not going out at all. He skates over to Louis when Seattle calls for a timeout, the boy visibly fuming as he chews on his mouth guard.

“This is not working, Tomlinson. We need to figure something out,” He says urgently, hands sweating in his gloves.

“What do you want me to fucking do, huh?” Louis snaps, glaring up at Harry.

“I don’t know, okay? I’m sorry if I seem brash, it’s not like I’m fucking freaking out over the potential termination of my entire future, or anything,” Harry snaps.

“Remember the drill we ran a few practices ago with Niall, well do that and if you don't score at least two goals I'll murder you in your sleep so you won't have to worry about your future.”

“That’s funny,” Harry deadpans sarcastically, but he makes note of Louis’ suggestion as he rolls his eyes and shoves his mouth guard back between his teeth.

Louis shoves his helmet onto his head and follows the rest of the team out onto the ice. Harry shakes his head and does the same, clenching his jaw and skating into position. Louis signals to Niall the play they are going to make before moving to the center to face off. The whistle is blown and Louis takes the puck, passing it to Harry before he can even blink. Louis skates off into the opposing team's side, Niall coming up to help defend off anyone trying to get to Harry.

If Louis’ the best at shooting, then Harry claims the title for the best at keeping the puck while he skates, effortlessly moving down the ice and toward their goal. Louis gets himself lined up for the shot, scanning over all the players to make sure the hand off will be smooth. Harry breathes in deeply and makes the pass at just the right second, Louis instantly sending it into the left corner of the goal. Niall comes flying into Harry's side to wrap him in a quick hug before the referee is blowing his whistle to tell them all to get in position. Their period of glory is brief, because as soon as they’re all caught up Seattle scores again, making the rest of second period frustrating. Cowell looks like he's ready to tear his clipboard in two, his hands white from how hard he's gripping It.

The beginning of third period isn’t too much better. They’re losing five to four, and Harry feels burnt out from skating up and down the rink with almost no progress. Liam calls a timeout right before the fifteen minute mark and skates over to Harry, waving Louis and the rest of the boys on the court over. Harry takes off his helmet and swipes a gloved hand over his sweaty forehead, waiting for Liam to speak.

“What the fuck is going on? We have never played this bad before.” Liam hisses, his eyes on Harry and Louis. Harry just stares at him helplessly, puffing out hot air as he attempts to catch his breath.

“You two were fine this morning, the best I've ever seen you together so whatever happened since then doesn't matter right now. Whatever petty bullshit you have needs to end now.” Liam practically growls.

“Okay, Li. I know we’re fucking up, Coach already ripped me a new asshole,” Harry huffs, lashing out on Liam for no good reason because he knows he deserves to be reprimanded, but he’s so fucking stressed. Liam doesn't reply to Harry's comment, turning to Louis instead. The boy isn't looking at any of them, his head down while looking so incredibly small.

“Okay. So we need two points, and we need to keep Seattle’s shots out of the net for fifteen minutes. What’s two points? We can - we can do that,” Harry says, borderline hysterical. Liam narrows his eyes at Harry, looking from Louis to Harry and back again.

“The fuck did you do?”

“It was just a disagreement,” Harry defends, making Louis roll his eyes. “Look, we don’t have time for a group therapy session.”

“Win this game for us and I'll personally kick his ass.” Liam says to Louis, ignoring Harry's squawk of protest. The buzzer signalling their time is up cuts the conversation short, the ref whistling for them to get back on the ice. Louis takes up his position, his eyes lingering on Harry for a second before shaking his head and turning to face off his opponent.

It’s hard for Harry to lose himself in the game when he feels so pressured, but it’s his only option at this point.

The whistle blows and the puck is dropped, Louis letting the other player take it only to intercept the pass he tries to make and sending the puck down the ice towards where Andy is racing towards the goal. Harry makes sure to keep himself open in case Andy needs to pass it to him. He doesn't need to apparently because just as soon as Louis is at half court he's racing besides Andy, faking out two player to get the puck before taking a shot with barely a glance.

The goalie miscalculates his shot, protecting the left corner which would have been the obvious shot Louis would have taken if he wasn’t smarter than that. Such a rookie move on the goalie’s part, honestly, but it works out in Penn’s favor. Harry watches the boys all tackle Louis in a hug, not entering it himself and instead sparing a glance over to Coach. Cowell gives him a hard look, Harry withering under his stare. Harry tries to shake himself of the disappointing feeling building inside him, shaking himself as he skates into position.

The last three or so minutes of the game are probably the most intense three minutes of Harry’s life, give or take. It’s mostly the notion that he’s got so much riding on this, this one game, and they have to get the last point before the time ends. If it gets to the point of sudden death Harry might actually die from the stifling anxiety building inside him.

He's sweating under all his gear, racing a crossed the ice as Liam steals the puck and send it towards them. Harry receives it without a hitch, an opposing player failing to intercept and instead skating to block Louis and keep him unavailable for a pass. Harry plows through Seattle’s defense, trying to see if anyone is open enough to pass when the clock hits fifty nine seconds.

He curses to himself, realizing he has to make the shot and he has to score or else it’s over. Harry takes a deep breath and lines up his shot, praying to every God he knows that he makes this. He follows through with his move as soon as it’s made, prepared for the deflection but not expecting it to actually happen. He pummels forward for a rebound attempt, eyes wide, and no, there’s no way he’s going to be able to do this. He sees Louis come up on his right, three guys racing behind him but it's doesn't matter because Louis is pushing Harry out of the way and taking the shot just as the buzzer rings.

Harry can’t join the pile up on Louis because he’s too busy collapsing right there on the ice, because watching himself fuck up was like watching a family member get shot, but somehow watching Louis clean up his mess was worse. He watches as the rest of the team rushes out to celebrate Louis’ winning shot, even Cowell coming out on the ice to clasp Louis on the back. Once the general hype has died down, Harry finds it in him to stand up, earning weak claps from passing teammates like hey, thanks for trying, better luck next time.

Harry heads straight for the locker room, not wanting to see Louis getting interviewed or Louis getting praised for practically making every goal. He rests his sweaty forehead against a cold locker as soon as he’s got his helmet off, inhaling shakily and brushing off the need to call his mum like some kid who got scared at a sleepover. Harry runs a hand over his face tiredly, his whole body feeling drained and weak as he starts to pull off his gear.

The team starts to file in a few minutes later, chattering excitedly and hyped up on the adrenaline from their win. Louis doesn't come in till after almost everyone is already showered and heading towards the stands to talk to Coach for the run down of the game and about just how much they can celebrate.

“You really sulking just because I saved our arses, Styles?” Louis sighs, laughing a little out of pure disbelief as he tugs his sweaty jersey over his head.

“Fuck off Tomlinson,” Harry snaps harshly, slamming the locker he is using closed.

“I can’t even believe you’re being a dick right now. How do you ever expect to get drafted if you can’t stand being out of the spotlight for one second?” Louis asks, tone lighthearted.

“I don't need the fucking spotlight, I'm not the attention whore in this situation.” Harry replies, stepping into Louis’ space.

“Yeah, well, you’re not Penn’s most valuable hockey player either, so maybe you should quit concentrating on me so much and step the fuck up,” Louis deadpans, fake smile dropping into something much uglier.

“Maybe I'd be able to if you didn't take my shots, or if you'd stop having your fucking bipolar mood swings and fucking with my head!” Harry screams, happy the locker room is clear.

“Are you really going to start throwing mental disorders around when you’re so fucking - ,” He pauses to take a breath, Harry’s jaw clenching. “You know what I think? I think you’re insecure. I think you have some deep underlying issues that make you the biggest bloody douchebag you could possibly be, complete with a disgustingly huge ego. I’m not your fucking problem here.”

Louis turns around like he's about to walk away, spinning around with a finger pointed in Harry's face in the same second. 

“And you know what, the fact that you can't handle the fact that I'm better than you is a fucking joke. You've had it out for me for three Goddamn years because you can't get over the fact that you're not the best.”

“You really think that’s the only reason I don’t like you? As if you’re not the fakest person I’ve ever met, as if you won’t do anything just to be the loudest person in the room? You’re too fucking much, and you try too fucking hard,” Harry spits. He’s pretty sure he’s never been so upset in his life, like all this tension has built up and he’s going to fucking explode.

“Really? I thought I was easy? That I was just a fucking whore that will give it up for everyone, wanna know something funny?” Louis smirks, backing up slightly so Harry isn't as close.

“No, I really don’t,” Harry huffs out a forced laugh, taking his eyes away from Louis as he tries to will his heated face, his heated chest, his heated everything to cool down.

“Freshman year, at the end of the first semester when Sigma threw that huge party and you got extremely drunk off your ass and fell asleep face down on your floor. I fucked Sam on the bed. While you were dating, while you were two feet away. Wanna know the best part, he broke up with you because I told him too.”

Harry blinks, and it takes him a minute to really absorb all that. Sam is a distant memory now, a blur of too many I love you’s and not enough good sex, but he was Harry’s first mature relationship. He’d asked Harry to marry him, once, and he’d said no but he still thought at the time that maybe he might want to. Then three weeks later Sam broke up with him, Harry’d suffered from his first broken heart, and then he moved on. In hindsight it never amounted to much, but at the time Harry was stupidly in love and stupidly hurt and it’s a lot to take in, right now.

He doesn't really recognise that his body is moving till his fist makes contact with Louis’ cheek and the rage is taking over his whole body. He feels a sick sort of satisfaction when Louis’ eyes widen and he stumbles backwards, a bruise already forming and blood beading where his teeth had clashed with his lip. They both stand there in dead silence for a good few seconds before chaos breaks loose. First Louis shoves Harry against a locker, hard, and Harry doesn’t protest because he’s so fucking tired all of the sudden.

“You're fucking pathetic you know that?” Louis hisses venomously, his lip bleeding steadily. Harry watches it drip down onto the front of his white undershirt, and then Louis’ mouth is on his, with so much force there’s a dull throb of pain where Harry’s head hits the metal behind it.

Harry doesn't think they've ever had a nice kiss, but this is by far the harshest, most violent kiss they have ever shared. Louis bites at his lip painfully, so hard that Harry’s positive the blood he tastes isn’t only Louis’, and it’s not nice at all but Harry appreciates that he can still feel after the shitshow that went down. Louis hands are gripping Harry's tight enough to cause an ache in Harry's head, the harsh throb grounding Harry. Harry’s not sure how long they kiss for, if it can even be considered a kiss, before Louis shoves Harry harder into the lockers and then steps back, spitting blood at the floor.

“We finish this season, then we're done. I never want to fucking talk to you, let alone be on the same team.”

Harry’s chest is heaving, the room silent save for his heavy breaths as Louis finishes stuffing his hockey gear in his bag. Harry slides down the side of the lockers and puts his head into his hands feeling utterly useless.

He swaps rooms with Zayn that night, and for once, nobody tries to stop him.

-

It took less than twenty four hours for Harry whole life to come crashing down around him it seems like. After the fight in the locker room Cowell had seen the bruise on Louis’ face, hell the whole team had, and known who had given it to him even if Louis had tried to play it off as him being clumsy.

He knew this would happen of course, maybe not precisely at the moment he’d hit Louis, but it didn’t take him long to realize he’d thrown away his future over a petty fucking argument. Coach has him suspended from the next two games, and can't practice for the rest of the week. He's also not allowed to be alone with Louis now, since it's considered spouse abuse in Simon and the team’s eyes. All the restrictions are making it really fucking hard to apologize, which is something Harry’s not too thick-headed to realize he owes. Louis is avoiding him like the black plague isn't helping either, nor is Zayn, Niall, and Liam acting like bodyguards for the boy.

“Niall,” Harry says one day when he’s lying on the man's bedroom floor, repeatedly throwing a ping pong ball at the wall. “I know it was bad. I know I’m undeserving of forgiveness for eternity, or whatever, but he fucked my boyfriend while I was in the same room, passed out in drunken stupor. You’ve gotta give me some sympathy, man.”

“That's pretty fucking shitty bro but I also remember you telling the whole school sophomore year that Lou had like, multiple STDs just because him and Grimshaw were hooking up.” Niall replies, sighing loudly.

“Yeah, and then he stole my phone and sent my entire contact list a picture of my cock as revenge. He sent it to my _boss_ , Ni, and my _mother_. Stop laughing, what the _fuck_ -”

“I almost fell down in the middle of Starbucks, man I didn’t know you were that _hung_ -”

“The point is, we’re both equally guilty parties, only I’m tripping over myself trying to apologize and he’s avoiding me like the plague.”

“You punched him in the face, man.” Niall reminds, giving Harry a look.

“And I'm paying for it, I'm suspends from the team, most likely going to get kicked out of the frat and my own mom gave me a lecture after Simon called her.”

“Okay, fair comment. But I don’t know what you want me to do. I already told you I’m staying on neutral soil, not picking sides. Oh and you're not getting kicked out, you're just the DD for the rest of this year.” Niall adds.

“What? Your stupid contract said I’d be kicked out,” Harry says, confused.

“Did you even read the fine print man? Going into business and you can't even read a damn contract.” Niall says with a shake of his head.

“But you -”

“I made it up. I thought it might make you try harder, because God knows you jizz your pants being nice to people who _aren’t_ Tomlinson. Granted, I thought you’d read it yourself and call me out, but since you’re a fucking idiot,” Niall trails off his monologue and shrugs, reaching for the chips on his nightstand.

“What do I do Niall?” Harry groans, covering his eyes with his hands.

“I don’t know, H. Malik never leaves his side, even I couldn’t convince him to let you two have a word with each other.”

“Can you like, distract him after practice or something so I can get to Lou?” Harry pouts, stealing a chip from the boy.

“That’s just dirty, man. How ‘bout this, I’ll tell Lou you’re kicking yourself and want to apologize, and if he wants to talk to you, he will. Sometimes that’s just how things roll.” Harry hates Niall and his hippie mindset.

“Fine, just talk to him today.” Harry sighs. Niall reaches for the remote and turns on Big Brother, and Harry knows that’s the end of that conversation.

-

“Niall, I don't want to talk to him.”

“I know bro, he's a shit guy I'll be the first to admit that. But he wants to apologize to you.”

“As fascinating as Harry Styles wanting to take blame for something he did is to me, I’m not interested in his pathetic attempt to get on my good side, or whatever he’s trying this time.”

“I get it Lou, he's been a jerk to you for so long and I'm not gonna push you into seeing him. I don't like anything he's done but he's really beating himself up over this so I told him I'd at least try.” Niall responds, leaning back against the lockers. Louis huffs out a long sigh, stuffing the last of his things in his bag.

“Why should I feel bad for him? Why should I give him my time just so he can stop feeling sorry for himself?” He asks.

“You shouldn't.” Niall shrugs, following Louis out of the locker room. “But, I mean. He may act like a heartless bastard but he’s not. I’ve known him for a long time, Lou, and I’m not trying to justify anything that he does, but that thing with Sam really killed him. I think it was a step too far, and him hitting you was too far, and I think there’s some stuff going on with you two that neither of you really realize, so. Do whatever you need to do, Tomlinson.”

“I'll think about it. I guess.” Louis sighs, waving to Zayn as they head outside. Niall claps him on the back, heading off in the opposite direction and shouting something that sounds like cheers, mate! as he goes.

“You okay Lou?” Zayn asks as he comes up to Louis.

“Do you think I should talk to Harry?” Louis blurts. He doesn’t know what to do, but Zayn will. Zayn’s jaw tightens visibly, pulling Louis into his side.

“I don't like the idea, I'm not Harry's biggest fan.”

“I know. Niall told me he wants to apologize, and I feel like an idiot for wanting to let him,” Louis sighs.

“You're not an idiot Lou, if you want to hear him apologize then let him. But don't let him fucking around with your feelings anymore.” Zayn shrugs, tightening his arm around Louis.

“I won’t. But I mean, if something were to actually come of it, me and Harry, would you support that?” Louis asks, almost shy.

“I'd have to give him the best friend speech and probably punch him in the face, an eye for an eye and all that, but if you're happy then I'll support you.” Zayn states, kissing the boy’s forehead as they get to the bus stop.

“Ugh, you’re too good,” Louis groans, clinging to Zayn as they wait for their bus. “Love you, Z.”

“Love you too babes,” Zayn smiles into the boy's hair. “Wanna go to a party tonight, take your mind off it?”

“Duh, Zayn Malik, do you know me at all?”

-

The frat is quiet for a Saturday Afternoon, Harry still in bed after the party Sigma had that he couldn't even drink at. He’s under the blankets in just his boxers, playing with his phone when there’s a quiet knock on his door.

“Come in,” He says loudly, his voice slightly deeper due to not using it all day. The door creaks softly, and then shuts. Harry doesn’t look up, it’s probably Andy coming to steal his Mario Kart game.

“So I heard you’ve been sending Niall to do your dirty work, then.”

“Louis,” Harry gasps, sitting up fast to see the boy standing by the door. Louis’ leaning against the door, dressed in comfy clothes and still sporting a dark bruise just underneath his cheekbone.

“You look quite shocked, might want to close your mouth, flies and what not.” Louis smiles shyly, his eyes bright.

“Right. Flies,” Harry echoes, mouth snapping shut immediately. “You can, um. You can come sit. I mean, only if you want, I know you don’t trust me.”

Louis takes a few steps closer but doesn't sit, one arm crossed over his chest to run over his other arm.

“I didn’t think you’d come talk to me,” Harry says after a long moment of silence.

“I heard you have some things to say to me, so I thought I'd come over.” Louis shrugs.

“I’m really sorry, Louis. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so fucking mad, you know? But I should’ve handled it better. I should've just left. I'm sorry,” Harry rambles. Louis doesn't reply, seems to be waiting to see if Harry will say anything else.

“And I'm sorry for calling you a whore. That was wrong of me, but some of the things you said really hurt and I don’t channel that very well. Obviously,” Harry continues, basically just blabbering like an idiot but he wasn’t exactly prepared.

“It wasn't the first time you've called me a whore.” Louis points out.

“I know. It was just the only thing I really had against you, which doesn’t make it right, but. I'm really paying for it, all of it. I deserve it,” He pauses. “I guess that’s all. You can go if you want.”

“You're only suspended for a week you know, nothing to cry about.” Louis says, ignoring Harry's last sentence.

“Um, Coach said I might not be able to play next year. It depends on how I do when I get back.” Harry mutters, picking at the blankets. “And that’s if he can convince the board that I'm worth the rule bending. Violence is technically basis for immediate termination of my contract, but since it’s always overlooked when we fight on the ice they need to have a discussion, apparently.”

“Does-does that mean you could lose your scholarship?” Louis asks, his eyes widening.

“I mean, Coach didn’t say anything about that when he was chewing me out, but I assume so. It wouldn’t make sense for me to have a scholarship for hockey if I don’t play hockey,” Harry shrugs, eyes downcast. Louis bites his lip, looking down right frightened for Harry and it makes the boy scared to see Louis like this, small and bruised and sad.

“It’s fine,” Harry continues. It’s not fine, but Louis doesn’t have to know that. “I’ve got a backup, anyway.”

“But you love hockey and-and who am I going to fight for captain if you don't play and James can only-”

“Louis, I did this to myself. I don't want you to think this is your fault.” Harry cuts in, cautiously standing up from the bed and moving to stand in front of the shorter boy.

“No, you shouldn’t - you deserved your suspension, maybe, but all that other stuff just because I riled you up enough for you to actually do something about it, because I did a shitty thing too. I shouldn’t have told you like that. That’s not fair, Harry.”

“It is what it is,” Harry shrugs half heartedly, his hands itching to touch Louis, to stop the boy from looking at him with that heart breaking expression.

“That’s not what I wanted, you know. Whatever I said, like, in the moment, I would never wish for your future to get fucked like that because of me,” Louis says.

“I know you wouldn't Louis, I know I get really competitive and bitchy when it comes to you but it's because you're right. You are better than me and I don't handle that well. I've worked my ass off to get where I am and I took my frustration and bitterness out on you and that's not fair.”

“I really appreciate your apology, and I don’t - there’s nothing I can do to make up for what I did. It’s actually something I’ve always felt really guilty for, but I was really worked up and I made it like I was proud of it, and I’m not. I’m really sorry for that, too,” Louis apologizes, hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Do-do you think we could maybe try to start over? Like a clean slate.” Harry asks timidly. Louis cracks a smile, and Harry hates that it’s mauled by the bruise.

“Maybe if you say sorry one more time,” Louis answers playfully. “Music to me ears.”

“I'm sorry Lou, really.” Harry mumbles softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

“Me, too. Um, I have to go, ‘cause I sort of dragged Zayn here with me and I’m pretty sure he’s downstairs making awkward conversation with one of your frat brothers, so. I should go save him, but maybe we can hang out,” Louis says, smile matching Harry’s.

“Okay yah, um I'll text you? If that's alright?” Harry nods, trying not to show how relieved he is.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, backing towards the door. Harry watched his slip out of the room with a small wave, Harry's eyes not leaving the spot he left for a good minute. He’s probably not processing that this just happened, that he just had a civil conversation with Louis Tomlinson that involved apologies and explanations. Harry doesn't understand how any of this happened but his chest feels lighter and his mind clearer than it has been in three years.

-

The first game they lose is the first game Harry’s not playing. It was in Boston, and Harry was required to tag along and watch. It was some form of torture, watching them fuck it all up while he’s glued to the bench. Harry’s not so big-headed to think that the team can’t survive without him, but it’s obvious that they were thrown off balance in a way. Louis was able to score twice in the first period but Boston ended up winning six to two. They’re not out yet, but they can only lose one more game before they’re done for the season. The entire team is notably bummed about the loss, their heads hung low as they make their way back to the hotel. It’ll be a quiet night.

They stop for dinner at some taco place, Coach giving them a solemn reminder to stick to the healthy options before they’re let loose. Louis hasn't talked to anyone since the game ended, pushing Zayn away even. Harry wants to approach him, but he’s not sure if they’re exactly on those terms yet. That, and the team still eyes him whenever he gets too close.

So he keeps his distance, but sneaks a blueberry icee to the boy when Coach is distracted. Louis gives him a small smile in return, and his lips are blue by the time they get back. Harry texts Louis as soon as they get back into their hotel rooms, wanting to make sure the boy isn't blaming himself for the team's loss. He knows Louis takes this kind of stuff to heart, even if he never bothered to pay attention to it before. He goes through four drafts of messages before finally settling on something to say.

_Heyyy you okay??_

_**fine, just took it a little too hard. Can I come to your room? something to tell you** _

_course doors open and Ni with Li_

Harry doesn’t even have time to psych himself up, because it’s barely a minute before Louis’ tapping at the door and then opening it.

“Hey,” Harry greets, standing up from his spot on the bed.

“Hey,” Louis says softly, freshly showered as he makes his way into the room. Harry bites his lip, trying to not make a fool of himself as he awkwardly stands besides the bed, trying his best to keep his hands to himself. It’s just, he hasn’t touched Louis in so long, and he didn’t realize how much he’d miss it.

Harry takes the three steps that separate them from one another in slow steps, making sure Louis has enough time to back away if he needs to. He settles his hands on Louis’ slim waist and lowers his head to his neck, smelling the citrusy scent from the hotel soap on his skin. Louis wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders, sighing into the contact as Harry pulls him in closer.

“Hey, wait,” Louis interrupts, laughing a little breathlessly just as Harry’s started to move his hands lower. “I still have to tell you something.”

“Alright, does that require me moving?” Harry mutters into the boy’s hair.

“I guess not,” Louis chuckles. It’s quiet for a second before he continues. “I talked to Coach.”

“Oh?” Harry hums, his hand rubbing over Louis’ back absentmindedly.

“Yeah. I told him that it was both of our faults, and then he threatened to boot us both, but I think I got him to compromise.”

“How so?” Harry questions, pulling back just enough to see Louis’ face.

“Well, he said you’d have to write a formal apology and present it in front of the board and the team, and agree to be co-captains with me. And you’d be on like, probation for the first few games to make sure everything’s good. So it’s kind of a lot, but it’s better than getting kicked,” Louis shrugs.

“I-thank you Louis, that's amazing!” Harry gasps, pulling Louis in tighter to his chest.

“It’s not, really, I didn’t have to say much. I think he’s desperate to have you back on the team,” Louis says bashfully. Harry can't help himself when he ducks down to press his lips to Louis’ in a excited kiss, his hand coming up to cup the boy’s face.

“Shit. Sorry,” He murmurs against Louis’ mouth. “I should’ve asked.”

“It's okay, um I think we should like talk if we're going to do it again though.” Louis replies, looking down at the ground.

“Talk like how?” Harry asks, brows furrowed.

“Like you can't-you can’t fuck with my head like you did before, I can't handle that.” Louis replies.

“I didn’t realize - I just kind of thought of us hooking up as separate from everything else. Just something we did,” Harry explains.

“I don't want to do that, we either don't hook up anymore or we talk about what's okay and what isn't.” Louis says with a shake of his head.

“We can talk about it,” Harry agrees. “Is there something I did before that you didn’t like?”

“I liked what we were doing, like being rough and hard. But you can’t just leave me right after.”

“Okay, yeah. And, um, before, I was kind of taking out my frustrations on you? Like when you’d piss me off. I can keep doing it like that, though, if you like it,” Harry says, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“I don't mind too much, just-gentle is okay too.” Louis mumbles bashfully.

“Just, like, say the word, I guess. I’m not picky,” Harry says with a flirtatious smile, an attempt at steering away from the awkward talk. Louis nods his head twice, laying his head on Harry's shoulder as he lets out a small sigh.

“You’re so much better to be around when you’re not being a prick,” He mutters against Harry’s sleeve. Harry snorts.

“Thanks.”

-

Everything seems to better after that night, the whole team seeing the changes between the two boys. They’re not too affectionate around other people, sometimes not at all, but some nights Louis will stay over and they’ll fall asleep binge watching Netflix and Harry will wake up with an armful of him. He’s not complaining. The boys don't tease them as much since Liam got on everyone's cases to knock it off and let them be, which Harry is happy about.

The Delta Gamma sorority throws a kegger the Saturday before their last semifinal game. Harry’s sitting on the sofa chatting with a nice sorority sister named Perrie, having long lost both Louis and Niall ages ago. Harry can't drink still so he's sipping on a water bottle while longingly looking at Perrie’s vodka and cranberry.

“You sure you don’t want some? I won’t tell,” Perrie teases, knowing full well Harry can’t accept the offer. He doesn’t fancy killing any of the freshies he’ll be driving home tonight.

“Don't tease the boy Perrie, you'll make him cry.” Harry turns around to see who the voice is that is speaking, smiling when he sees Nick. Perrie winks and lifts her glass to the two of them, bouncing off to entertain guests or whatever it is that sorority girls do.

“Harry Styles, do you remember our last conversation?” Nick asks, taking Perrie’s seat on the sofa.

“Can't say I do, Grimmy, but I'm sure you'll remind me.” Harry says as he throws an arm over Nick’s shoulder.

“Well,” Nick starts, sipping whatever concoction is in his plastic cup. “Not much of a conversation, actually. We’ll call it an encounter. But you gave me a rather fantastic blowie in the stadium storage closet, and I don’t believe I’ve yet returned the favor.”

“It was rather good wasn’t it?” Harry hums with a smirk.

“It was. I’ve not slept a wink since,” Nick jokes, eyes widening comically. Harry laughs loudly, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Grimshaw. You’re always a good time, but m’not really available,” Harry tells him.

“Oh? Someone finally tie you down?” Nick questions, waggling his eyebrows. Harry flushes, ducking his head.

“Eh. It’s not quite like that. I just don’t want to mess anything up,” He answers. Nick replies with something about how he'll miss their fantastic times together but Harry isn't listening, his head still trying to wrap itself around the fact that he basically just said he was dating Louis. If he thinks about it, they kind of are. They haven’t said anything, but they’re constantly hanging out and occasionally hooking up.

He knows Louis wouldn’t take to it well if he were fucking with someone else, and if he’s honest, he’d be enraged if Louis were too. He doesn't know how they got to this point, hanging out constantly and getting along just fine. They still have spats over stupid things, but they’re only half-serious. They usually end in Harry pinning Louis down which leads to interesting nights and knowing looks from Harry's frat brothers.

So they’re not quite dating, but they’re not seeing other people either. Harry's not sure how he feels about their situation, but he notices as he continues talking to Nick that his eyes wander to find Louis. He ran off a while ago, something about beer pong, but he always gets bored with drinking games and Harry thinks he should find him before he gets into trouble.

He says goodbye to Nick with a friendly hug and pat on the back before heading into the dining room to look for Louis. He finds Niall in the kitchen, sipping a beer against the fridge and chatting up a petite brunette.

“Hey have you seen Lou?” Harry asks as he makes his way over to the two.

“Went out back like, ten minutes ago,” Niall answers dismissively, turning back to the girl. Harry rolls his eyes and heads to the back door, pushing it open to see Louis, Zayn and a small group of boys passing around a blunt. Louis’ sat in the grass, the neck of his beer bottle visible between his legs as he takes a deep hit. He doesn’t see Harry until he’s passed it off, waving him over. Harry takes a seat next to him on the ground, his leg pressed against Louis’ as he stretches out.

“Hey,” He murmurs, nudging Louis with his shoulder. Louis smiles at him, smoke curling out of his nose and mouth.

“Hey, want some?” Louis offers.

“Can’t. I’m a sober man now, remember?” Harry declines solemnly.

“Right,” Louis snickers, his hand resting on Harry's knee.

“But as soon as the party gets shut down I’m going home and getting high as a kite. Perks of being suspended. Doesn’t matter if I'm still stoned when I wake up.”

“Can I join you?” Louis asks, turning his full attention to Harry as he takes the spliff from Zayn.

“As long as you feel like riding in a car full of intoxicated college students,” Harry answers, shrugging.

“Sounds like it could be interesting.” Louis smiles, blowing the smoke out slowly.

“Not so interesting when you’re cleaning puke out of your backseat, but. Might be more fun if you come,” Harry smiles back at him.

“Course it will be, I'm a riot.” Louis smirk.

“You said it, not me,” Harry chuckles. Louis pushes at his shoulder playfully and somehow seems to creep closer till their sides are pressed against one another.

Harry bites back a smile and puts his hand on Louis’ thigh, squeezing gently. They stay outside for a good half an hour before Harry has to take a small group of drunk freshmen back to the house. Harry’s taken to leaving disposable plastic bags in his backseat. It only took one pile of vomit to learn that lesson, and he hands one to each of them even if he gets snickered at by everyone including Louis.

The night goes well, probably one of the best that he's been sober for past midnight in a while. Louis’ high and giggly, and Harry’s ninety percent sure he falls asleep against the window at one point, but that’s only because he’s uncharacteristically quiet for about ten minutes. Harry only has to take five trips throughout the night, dropping the last group off just before two in the morning. He’s good to go then, because if anyone’s still drinking at that point they’re bound to pass out on the floor anyway. Louis is sipping on a water bottle Harry had gotten him with both hands, his eyes unfocused and his legs pulled up onto the seat.

“Lou, hey, We’re at mine,” Harry reaches over and nudges him gently. Louis turns to look at him slowly, his face breaking out into a huge grin when his eyes finally settle on Harry.

“Harrreehhh, when’d you get here?”

“Been here,” Harry responds, smirking. “You wanna go inside?” Louis looks down at himself, his eyes widening when he sees his legs like it's the first time he's ever noticed he has them.

“How do I work them?” Louis asks, poking at his knee. Harry huffs out a laugh and shuts off the car, opening his door and making his way to Louis’ side. Louis smiles at him lazily as Harry unbuckles his seatbelt and takes the half empty water bottle from his hands.

“Woah, Styles, buy me a drink first,” Louis mumbles, giggling as Harry begins to heave him up out of his seat by the waist.

“Maybe later,” Harry replies softly, situating Louis in his arms before carrying him into the house. A couple of his brothers are in the main room playing video games, clearly stoned or drunk or both, but other than that it’s relatively quiet. Harry takes Louis up the stairs and into his room, the boy’s head leaning on his shoulder as he mutters something about never know how the world looked from up here.

“Lou, can you walk? I gotta piss,” Harry mumbles, moving to set Louis down, but as soon as his feet touch the floor he recoils them back around Harry’s waist like he’s been burned.

“Guess not,” Harry sighs, taking Louis into the bathroom with him and setting him on the sink counter. Louis twists around to look at himself in the mirror, opening his bloodshot eyes with his thumb and index finger. Harry huffs out a laugh and turns toward the toilet, shaking his head.

“Harreh, am I a vampire?” Louis asks as he inspects his eye.

“I don’t know, are you?” Harry retorts, finishing up and zipping his jeans.

“I think so,” Louis replies, turning back around.

“Mm, why’s that?” Harry humors, nudging Louis over so he can rinse his hands in the sink.

“Look at my eyes!” Louis exclaims, grabbing a hold of Harry's face and pressing their noses together.

“As long as you don’t bite me while I sleep,” Harry shrugs, going cross eyed looking at Louis from the proximity of their faces.

“What if I want to bite you?” Louis giggles, not letting go of Harry's face.

“Maybe I’d let you. If you were actually, y’know, a vampire,” Harry muses, shrugging again and wetting his lips.

“I'm not a vampire?” Louis pouts, his lip sticking out dramatically.

“Dunno, Lou. There’s no proof that you’re not a vampire,” Harry says. “But I wanna smoke, so if you’re gonna drink my blood then get on with it.”

“No no! I wanna smoke too!” Louis says excitedly, bouncing up and down.

“Well, c’mon. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Harry urges, scooping Louis off the counter. Louis giggles the whole way to Harry's room, playing gnawing on the boy’s neck.

“‘M a vampire,” He keeps mumbling, and Harry tries not to think anything of it when he sets Louis on the bed and he detaches with a loud sucking noise. Louis smiles to himself with his eyes closed, stretching out on the bed as Harry pulls out a baggie and a bowl. He packs quickly, standing to crack a window and then sitting cross-legged on the bed.

Louis sits up and crawls over to Harry, pushing himself into Harry's lap as the boy lights up. Harry lets his head fall back as he exhales slowly, staring at the ceiling fan as he hands Louis the pipe. Louis takes it happily exhaling a long drag, waving his hand and grabbing onto Harry's neck to pass the smoke over to Harry. Harry inhales, then takes another hit and pulls Louis in for a proper shotgun, their mouths open and touching, just barely. Louis makes a small moaning sound as Harry pulls away to take another hit, his eyes hooded.

Harry’s already feeling it, mouth fuzzy with the beginnings of his high as he inhales deep, smoke curling out of his nose before he’s even finished drawing it in. Louis watches him while he plays with the buttons of Harry's shirt, giggles falling from his mouth every few seconds. He shakes his head when Harry offers the bowl, unfolding Harry’s collar so it’s sticking up and laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s seen.

Harry smiles down at him fondly, shaking his head as he takes another hit. It’s so deep it makes him cough a little and he feels the effect immediately, bones sagging. He finishes off the bowl by himself, shotgunning a few hits with Louis. He feels good after that, at least for the time being, so he sets the empty pipe on the nightstand and falls down onto his back, dragging Louis with him. Louis hums happily, his head resting against Harry's chest.

“Should change into somethin’ more comfortable,” Harry mumbles vaguely, his own voice sounding far away.

“Or just take some clothes off,” Louis shrugs, his fingers clumsy undoing Harry's shirt. For some reason Harry finds that funny, giggling to himself as Louis fumbles with his buttons. Louis manages to get three of them undone before he gives up, claiming his hands are to heavy to hold up any longer. Instead he plants them on Harry’s shoulders, flattening against him and sighing heavily.

“I'm tired.” Louis yawns, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Gonna crash on me already?” Harry grumbles. “Boring. Don’t wanna sleep yet.”

“Whatda wanna do then?” Louis asks, his words blending together.

“I dunno. You wanna...watch something?” Harry asks.

“Like what? Porn?” Louis asks, rubbing his face against Harry's chest.

“Like Netflix,” Harry snickers, Louis’ faint stubble scratching him a little. “Unless you’ve got a hankering for porn.”

“What kinda porn we talking?” Louis questions.

“No idea. Haven’t watched any in ages,” Harry slurs, only half invested in the conversation.

“Why not?” Louis asks, lifting his head slightly up.

“I don’t know. Usually just pull one off quick if I’m alone. Don’t need it,” Harry mumbles, words slurring.

“Don't you ever just wanna unwind?” Louis asks, tracing random shapes on Harry's chest.

“I’m unwinding right now,” Harry chuckles breathily, his hands running up and down Louis’ back and then settling on his ass, just resting there.

“Hey, that's mine.” Louis mutters, but doesn't push Harry's hand away. Harry hums and closes his eyes, whole body fuzzy and warm.

“Can we smoke more?” Louis asks after a moment of peaceful silence.

“Yeah. Get off me,” Harry mumbles, shoving at Louis playfully. Louis pouts slightly but lights up when Harry starts to pack a new bowl, watching him giddily. Harry packs it full again, this time with a little more difficulty due to his clumsy fingers that feel too heavy for his hand. He takes the first hit, sucking in as much as his lungs will allow before passing it over to Louis.

They smoke in relative silence, shotgunning every odd hit or so just to make it last, or be close, or both. They finish the bowl quickly, Louis giggling at nothing in particular and demanding harry pack another bowl. So Harry does, and they smoke that through too, and then another, until Harry cannot feel his own limbs anymore. He’s not sure how Louis’ still conscious.

“We-we should-we, I forgot,” Louis laughs, covering his mouth with both hands.

“Mmph, I need water. Can’t get up,” Harry slurs, barely even able to lift his arm enough to put the bowl back on the table.

“I got some!” Louis exclaims, crawling closer to Harry after grabbing his water bottle from earlier. Harry’s face lights up in a dopey grin, he feels it, taking the water Louis hands to him like it’s a bar of solid gold.

“Thanks baby,” Harry mutters before taking a long drink, not noticing Louis staring at him. He drinks clumsily, a little water dripping down his chin. He sets the water bottle down on the nightstand closes to him, sighing heavily as his limbs grow even heavier. He has to lie down, his head feeling like it’s going to drop down right off his shoulders.

“Lou, Lou, lay with me, ‘m cold,” He mumbles, reaching out blindly. Louis makes a soft noise as he lays himself down next to Harry, their legs tangling together and Harry's arms wrapping around Louis’ waist. Harry’s going to regret falling asleep in this outfit, and he doesn’t think Louis even took his shoes off, but he’s too warm and heavy to move. They end up falling asleep like that, the lights still on and the blanket discarded on the floor.

-

Their last postseason game is at home, which somehow makes it worse when they lose. It’s a lost cause from start to finish, and it’s not that Penn doesn’t play well, it’s just that New York plays ten times better. Harry can't stand to watch, not after Louis gets a fifteen minute penalty in the second period and New York scored three points. Liam’s royally pissed off by the time the final period rolls around, and it leads to some pretty good plays, but even after they manage to score a few times New York’s winning by four points, with less than six minutes left in the game. There's no way to pull through this and Harry can already tell the toll it is taking on the team. Louis gets in a fight with one of the other team’s offense at the two minute mark, mouthier than usual, but the ref breaks it up before any punches can be thrown. Harry doesn't watch the rest of the game, heading to the locker room to wait for the team.

The team is filling in after a little more than five minutes, and if Harry wasn’t already sure they lost, the looks on their faces would give it away. He stands up and heads straight for Louis who is the last person in, his face sweaty and a firm scowl drowning out his features. He doesn’t say anything at first, and neither does Louis, staring at the floor as he stops in front of Harry. Harry can't take the painful silence anymore and pulls Louis into his chest, wrapping his arms as tightly as possible around the boy.

“You played really good, if it helps,” Harry murmurs into his hair, can’t bother to be embarrassed about the softness of his voice. “The way you skate is mesmerizing. Effortless. If there were scouts, I bet they couldn't take their eyes off you.”

“I fucked everything up, we lost because-”

“Don't say that Lou, it wasn't your fault.” Harry shushes, petting at the boy’s hair. “Don't think so negatively. Next season, with you and me getting along, we’re gonna kill it.”

“I'll have to kick your ass if we lose.” Louis mutters. Harry laughs, running his fingers through Louis’ sweaty hair.

“You’ll have to beat me to it. Reckon I'll be face down with a gun to my head before the scores even get posted.”

Louis shakes his head with a small laugh, pressing his face harder into Harry's shoulder.

“Should change. Liam’s probably going to want the team to be at frat after Coach talks to us,” Harry mutters.

It’s a sort of tradition, to meet up and order a boatload of takeout and drink and watch their game tapes. Even Cowell makes a brief appearance, a good way to end their season.

“Can I stay at yours tonight?” Louis asks, his voice muffled by Harry's shirt.

“Yeah, course “ Harry answers, stepping back a little just as the door swings open and Coach walks in. He doesn't say anything to them at first, just stand in the doorway taking everyone in. Harry remembers the speech they got last year when the lost the quarterfinals, upset but not angry, and he hopes for the same one this year.

“I'm proud of you boys, every single one of you. I know losing today means the season is over but I have a good feeling that next year we will be going home with that damn trophy.” His words are followed by several whoops and cheers, mostly enthusiastic despite the overall devastation amongst the team.

“We’ve made tremendous progress this year. Some of you have grown as individuals and all of you have grown as players. I see so much potential in the members of this team, and despite our hiccups this season, I’m proud to work with you all and see how much you improve every day. Now, I want to see every single one of you tonight, we're not going to dwell on our lose, we're going to celebrate our season.” Coach finishes, nodding his head proudly when all of the boys start to cheer.

The pep talk seems to uplift the foul, dreary mood of the locker room, and the boys begin to talk amongst themselves instead of sulking, generating a low buzz in the locker room. Louis starts to change out of his gear while Harry takes a seat on the bench. He chats with a few of the boys while he waits for Louis, Niall and Zayn inviting themselves along for the car ride back to the frat so they don’t have to catch the bus. They all pile into Harry's car, Louis tucking himself up into the passenger's seat. He still seems pretty put out, so Harry reaches over and squeezes his thigh when he thinks Zayn and Niall aren’t looking. Louis sends him a grateful smile, resting his hand over harry's.

“Good thing you skate faster than you drive, Styles,” Niall sighs from the backseat, tapping impatiently against the back of Harry’s seat.

“Stuff it Horan or you can walk.” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. Louis laughs quietly in the passenger seat, covering his mouth with his hand. Harry smiles to himself as he watches Louis from the corner of his eye, the boy’s eyes sparkling in a way that makes Harry's stomach knot. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling as of late, which should scare him but it doesn’t, not really.

When they get to the frat house they all head inside, Liam and Andy already there on the phone with the pizza place.

“Yes, correct. Thirty pizzas. It’s not a prank, fucking - I didn’t mean to swear, shit-” Liam’s saying, phone pressed to his ear. Louis laughs quietly, looking far too soft and cute in his sweater and joggers. Harry’s definitely not staring, except for he totally is. Liam continues to try and convince the Pizza place that he is in fact trying to place an order, Louis turning his attention to Harry after he gets control of his laughter.

“What, do I have something on my face?” Louis asks when he catches Harry looking at him.

“Just your face,” Harry answers, making Louis wrinkle his nose and swat at him.

“Rude,” Louis huffs, pouting his lip out. Harry mimics the expression, earning another swat at the chest. Harry catches the boy’s hand as he goes to pull away, making Louis narrow his eyes.

“If you wanted to hold my hand you could've just asked,” He says.

“Fine,” Louis huffs, twisting his hand out of Harry's grip and tangling their fingers. Harry fights the flush that threatens to rise on his cheeks, and likely fails.

“Yo! Do you guys wanna go to the store and pick up some ice cream and cookies?” Any calls over to the two of them, everyone glancing at their hands but not saying anything about it.

“Uh. Sure,” Harry stammers, silently cursing himself. He doesn’t think Louis’ ever made him flush this much, and two nights ago his mouth was on Harry’s dick. Louis takes the money from Andy to buy everything and pulls on Harry's hand to lead him out to the car.

“Have fun,” Andy calls after them. “If you’re gonna exchange blowjobs at any point I’d rather you make it quick, boys’ll be here soon.”

“Fuck you too,” Louis sing songs as they leave the house. Harry’s hand tightens in Louis’ as they walk out to the car, a tiny smile playing at his lips. They have to untangle their hands to get in the car, but Harry doesn't fret too much over the fact because Louis makes sure to grab his hand before he can even start the car. Harry laughs a little, starting the car and resting their hands on the center console as he pulls out to the road. They ride to the store in peaceful silence, Louis turning the radio on low to hum along to it.

Once they get there, they detach to get their appointed groceries, Harry picking out tubs of ice cream while Louis dumps package after package of cookies into the cart. They grab a few other things just for the hell of it before heading to the check out. They buy their things quickly, earning strange looks from the cashier at the copious amounts of junk food they load onto the counter. Louis demands Harry push him while he stands on the cart, earning them more looks from strangers coming into the store.

“You’re a disgrace,” Harry chuckles, laughing when Louis makes direct eye contact with a burly man and smiles brightly.

“I'm amazing you mean.” Louis replies happily.

“Yeah, that. Must’ve mixed up my words,” Harry says, rolling his eyes as he pushes the cart toward the car.

“Must have,” Louis agrees with a grin, stepping off the cart to help Harry pull all the bags in the trunk of the car.

“Can I eat you out tonight?” Harry asks, suddenly, conversationally, making Louis immediately drop the plastic bag he’s holding.

“What?” Louis asks, staring at Harry with slickly wide eyes.

“Like. I was just thinking about it. After all the boys leave, If you want,” Harry shrugs, trying not to blush as Louis continues to stare at him.

“Are you being serious?” Louis questions, raising his eyebrows.

“You don’t want to? I know it’s not for everyone, but, um. I like to do it,” Harry mumbles, ready to backtrack if Louis keeps looking at him like that.

“No it's just that-that not everyone is into that.” Louis stammers.

“If you’re not it’s fine. Forget I said anything,” Harry shrugs again, finishing with the bags.

“No, no I wanna.” Louis blushes, looking down at his feet. “It’s just. I like it a lot and not many guys are willing to do that for someone. So I was surprised you’d want to.”

“I mean, I'm pretty into that. Wanna see you squirming around in the sheets begging me to give you more.” Harry shrugs as he shut the trunk.

“Fuck. Okay. Yeah, I - I want to do that,” Louis says, hovering next to their now empty shopping cart. Harry smirks devilishly, taking a step closer to the other boy. Louis stares up at him, lips parting into a little smile.

“Wish I could just have you right here,” Harry mumbles, his thumb rubbing over the skin of Louis’ hip. He hears Louis inhale and leans down to brush their lips together, teasing. Harry gently thumbs over the skin under his hand, letting out tiny puffs of air against Louis’ lips. It’s pretty indecent for the parking lot of a grocery store, their bodies so close together and both of their pulses rabbiting.

“Harry-Harreh,” Louis whines, his hands gripping Harry's biceps.

“Fuck, I’m gonna wreck you,” Harry breathes, flattening his palm on Louis’ lower back under his shirt. Louis whimpers almost inaudibly, trying to press their lips harder together only for Harry to pull back.

“Should go, Andy’ll think we got lost,” Harry mutters, stepping towards his side of the car. Louis’ gnawing on his bottom lip as he blinks a few times, clearing his head and trying to get the semi he's spotting to go down. The drive back is even quieter than the drive there, this time filled with sexual tension so thick you could probably smell it on them. Louis can't stop squirming in his seat, thinking about what Harry wants to do to him later.

When they arrive back at the frat most of the team is there, a couple boys helping take in the few bags of snacks Harry and Louis had brought. Simon shows up ten minutes later and all the boys cram into the living room, the pizza arriving right after Simon shows up. Harry sits on the floor with Louis between his legs, his back against Harry’s front, both of them immune to the team’s incessant teasing by now. Simon gives them a nod of approval from his chair, a small smile on his face.

Being with the team is always fun, especially now that all their stress is over with. They may not have won, but they had a good season nonetheless. The night goes well, the pizza is devoured in under an hour and the ice cream and cookies being passed around. Coach leaves around eight or nine, which is when Andy busts out the beer, which Harry declines even though Liam informs him he gets a free pass tonight.

“We're actually gonna head upstairs. Got some homework to finish.” Harry states, pulling Louis up off the floor. It’s clear no one believes the poorly constructed lie, but Harry’s past being embarrassed. The most anyone does is roll their eyes anyways.

Harry takes Louis’ hand in his own and leads the boy up to his room. Harry doesn’t waste time with formalities, they’ve done this enough now that he can push Louis against the door without complaints. The boy sucks in an audible breath, his eyes already looking dazed. Harry’s mouth finds his neck, tasting salt on his skin. Louis’ head falls to the side to give Harry better access, biting his lip to keep the sounds threatening to spill out mute.

His hands drift up to Harry’s hair, tangling in the thick locks and anchoring him where he’s working steadily on a dark bruise. Harry's hand quickly reaches Louis’ thigh, gripping the muscle there and hauling the boy’s leg up and wrapping it around his waist. He grinds his hips up, the angle forcing a tiny gasp out of Louis’ throat. He can feel Harry grinning into his neck, pressing their hips flush against one another. He feels so hot already, steadily getting harder and harder as Harry grinds against him firmly.

“God, can't wait to watch you fall apart. C’mon, bed.” Harry mutters, finally detaching himself from Louis’ neck.

Louis gets rid of his shirt before following Harry to the bed, falling down onto it clumsily. Harry's hands reach for the hem of Louis’ joggers before he's even laid down fully. Normally Louis might make a smart remark, but now he’s so desperate to be touched properly that he just lifts his hips and goes with it. Harry's mouth latches onto Louis’ heated skin, mouthing at the inside of the boy’s tight. His mouth is wet and warm, closing around the skin of his thigh and sucking gently. Louis squirms helplessly, his hands fisting the sheets as Harry's hands pushes his legs apart, his mouth never leaving Louis’ skin.

“How do you want to do this?” Harry detaches to ask, big hands smoothing up and down Louis’ thighs.

“I-I don't know. I don't care just-please.” Louis whines, his cheeks heating up from his desperate he already sounds.

“Could have you like this,” Harry drawls, ignoring Louis’ plea. “Just hold your legs down and dive right in. Or, we could flip you over, get you on your hands and knees, or, or you could sit on my face.”

“Harry, fuck.” Louis whimpers, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“So? What do you think? Wanna make you feel so good, Lou,” Harry says, and it’s clear he’s not budging without an answer.

“I-I wanna-the last one. But I don't think I'd be able to stay up.” Louis mumbles, tripping over his words.

“S’okay. I can always flip you over and take care of you if it gets too much,” Harry offers, shrugging. He says filthy things so casually, it’s not even fair. Louis closes his eyes and nods his head quickly, his face flaming.

“Okay. Hang on,” Harry sits up and strips off his shirt, barely biting back a grin as he settles down onto his back at the head of the bed.

“C’mere,” Harry says as he taps Louis’ bare thigh with his fingers. Louis’ lying if he says he’s not nervous. It’s been awhile since anyone has done this for him, and it’s Harry, of all people.

“Are you sure?” Louis asks timidly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Course. Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t love doing this,” Harry answers honestly. Louis nods his head once, slowly moving up to where Harry's head was propped up by a few pillows, straddling Harry's chest shyly. Harry gives him a reassuring smile, leaning up and sucking the head of Louis’ cock into his mouth.

Louis gasps softly, not expecting the sudden move. Harry releases with a soft sucking sound, and lying back down against the pillows. Harry runs his hands over Louis’ thighs till he’s got both hands cupping Louis’ cheeks to pull him further up. Even the first lick is nearly enough to have Louis toppling over, a low whine escaping his lips. He can feel Harry smirking against him, his tongue teasing over Louis’ rim. He grips the headboard, rocking back against Harry’s tongue. Harry's still has both hands firmly on Louis’ ass, kneading the plump muscle as he licks over Louis. He’s still teasing, licks too dry and without much pressure.

“Don't tease, can't take it.” Louis whines, his breathing short and choppy. His thighs are shaking with the effort of not completely smothering Harry, and he moans when Harry pulls him down more firmly. His hands are white with how hard he's gripping the headboard, his eyes shut tightly.

He pretty much loses it as soon as Harry starts putting effort into it, lost in the feeling of his mouth. His cock is throbbing against his stomach, so hard it's starting to hurt but Louis doesn't think he's capable of moving right now. He’s not sure how long Harry licks him out, but he knows he’s fucking good at it, his tongue moving like he’s done it a thousand times. He already feels close, his cock leaking steadily.

“Okay. That’s enough, I - fuck I can't-shit I-” Louis finds himself blabbering, Harry’s tongue steadily plunging in and out of him. Harry hums disappointedly, not stopping for a moment until Louis starts to shake noticeably. He adds a finger alongside his tongue and Louis can't help the broken moan that leaves his mouth as Harry takes him apart.

When Harry has two fingers and his tongue inside of him Louis can't take it anymore and lifts himself away from Harry’s mouth, shivering even though he’s sure he’s never felt hotter in his life. Harry sits up slowly, his face wet and his eyes sharp as he takes in every inch of Louis. Louis can see his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath, and fuck, he’s so hard just from eating Louis out.

“Think I could fuck you right now? Or do you need more prep?” Harry asks, his voice raspy.

“No, I’m fine. Fuck me,” Louis answers. He can definitely handle a little burn if Harry just gets in him now. Harry grins widely, pulling Louis into his lap as he grabs the lube from the nightstand. He grabs a strip of condoms too as an afterthought, doesn’t really fancy having to pull out. Louis’ already squirming around in Harry's lap, his head tucked in the boy’s neck as he whines softly for harry to “Get on with it already.”

“I got you, babe, lie back,” Harry orders softly, working his sweats down over his hips. Louis does so quickly, spreading his legs as far as he can. Harry gets his pants over his ankles and tosses them away, tearing open the foil wrapper. He rolls it over himself quickly, squeezing lube onto his cock and giving it a few pumps.

He drapes himself over Louis, teeth grazing his jaw as he lines himself up and begins to push in. All of the air in Louis’ lungs is pushed out as soon as Harry's inside him, his hands trying to find an anchor. He’s already working up a decent sweat, but he feels even hotter when Harry starts to move, hands tangling in his hair. Harry's slow about it, his thrust deep and drawing out the hot sensation inside of Louis.

Louis is absolutely mad for it, little moans and whimpers falling from his lips. Harry's mouth is sucking wetly at the mark he left earlier, his tongue swirling over the heated skin. Louis’ fingers drift down the back of his neck, tugging at the fine hairs there, and down between his shoulder blades where he digs his nails in.

Harry stifles a groan into Louis’ neck, loving the feeling of Louis’ hands on him and the pleasurable pain from where his nails are digging in. He always complains later when Louis scratches him up but Louis knows he fucking loves it, loves the pain during and the marks after. They're already both close, to much pent up sexual frustration to last.

“Oh, god. Harder, I’m close,” Louis whines, one hand dropping to Harry’s ass like he’s trying to force him deeper. Harry pressing in harder, trying to give the boy what he wants. Louis tips his head back, letting out little ah ah ah’s so loud he should probably be embarrassed, but Louis’ got no shame.

Harry lifts himself up enough to give himself better leverage to fuck into Louis better, watching the boy’s face. His expression morphs beautifully at the new angle and pace, transforming from blissful to pure fucking ecstasy. Harry can't take his eyes off the beautiful sight, his tongue darting out to wet his lips even though his face is still shining from earlier.

Louis gets increasingly louder as he gets closer, Harry no longer bothering to muffle his own grunts and moans. Harry knows they are going to get so much shit for this in the morning but can't be bothered to care as he watches Louis come untouched. He’s seen it before but watching never fails to bring him closer to the edge faster than seeing that, and his own orgasm hits him like a train not even one minute later. He keeps up his rhythm as best he can, pressing in as far as possible when he's finally come down.

Louis lazily wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, humming and keeping him inside until he starts to be uncomfortable. When Harry pulls out he peels off the condom and ties it up before throwing it in the bin next to the nightstand, leaning down to pepper light kisses over Louis’ chest and neck. Louis giggles airily, combing his fingers through Harry’s messy, sweaty hair.

“God that was good.” Harry mumbles, pressing a long kiss to Louis’ cheek. Louis breathes out and mumbles his agreement, feeling warm and sated.

“Wanna wash up and sleep?” Harry asks, not moving.

“I guess,” Louis mumbles, eyes already heavy. Harry smiles down at the boy and kisses his lips lightly before pushing himself off the bed to get a rag. He returns moments later, warm washrag in hand that he uses to gently wash the come of Louis’ stomach. Louis hums happily as Harry wipes him down, stretching himself out to get comfortable.

“You want something to sleep in or are you good like this?” Harry asks softly once he’s finished.

“This is good,” Louis hums, smiling to himself. Harry settles in next to him, and it’s not even a question when he opens his arms and Louis curls into them.

-

“Harold you can't put water bottle by the vodka, some poor drunk is going to come over to table and end up not getting as drunk as he could all because of you.”

“You're an idiot.”

“Just because you still can't drink doesn't mean you need to go around throwing insults at innocent people.”

“Are you trying to say you’re not an idiot?” Harry challenges, raising an eyebrow as he pointedly continues setting up water bottles.

“You're so rude I don't know why I talk to you.” Louis mutters, knocking over a line of water bottles just because.

“I can think of a few reasons,” Harry chuckles, nudging Louis away from the drinks.

“Shut up, no one wants to hear about your dick.” Louis says with a roll of his eyes.

“You do,” Harry sings, batting Louis away when he reaches to knock over the water bottles again, seriously.

“I'd rather drown in those water bottle,” Louis states as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You could, though, you’re so small I could just pop you right in -” He gets hit before he can finish, which, he should have expected that.

“You're such a prat.” Louis mutters, pulling on the boy’s curls even as Harry tries to bat him away. Harry eventually just rolls his eyes and captures his wrists, holding them to his chest.

“Stop manhandling me.” Louis orders with a small pout.

“Are you going to help me set up or are you going to keep telling me I’m wrong every time I do something,” Harry sighs.

“Not my bloody fault you do everything wrong,” Louis mutters, trying to keep the smirk off his face.

“You’re such a shit. Go badger Liam about his poor decorating skills, if you’re so keen on perfection,” Harry scoffs, releasing Louis’ wrists.

Louis sticks his nose up in the air and turns around, muttering about Harry being rude. Harry will never admit that he sort of misses him after he’s gone, but the he’s way behind on his assigned job and the party starts soon, so maybe it’s for the best. He finishes setting everything up just in time for the first round of students to arrive, his brothers finishing up their jobs shorty before him. He sets off to find Louis, since he can’t drink he may as well be entertained. He can't find him at first which is ridiculous because the frat house isn't that big but ends up not having to when a small body jumps onto his back, almost knocking him to the floor.

“Hey, ‘arold,” A voice says close to his ear, arms encircled around his neck.

“Hello Lewis,” Harry chuckles, wrapping his arms around Louis’ thighs to keep the boy steady.

“It’s been an hour since you brutally demanded that I leave your presence -”

“Rightfully so.”

“- and young Niall made this wonderful White Russian. I’d let you try it, but, you know. You punched me that one time and now you’re suffering the ever-intolerable woes of punishment.” Louis has stages of getting drunk. Right now he’s tipsy, and during this stage he talks like he’s writing a thesis, ridiculously enough.

“You should carry me over to the drink table, I want another.” Louis hums, his nose nuzzling into Harry's hair. “Do you think I could get the boys to revoke your punishment if I tell them I like you now?”

“Probably not, but you could try.” Harry shrugs, making his way across the house.

“What if I...oh, I know, I could offer favors!” Louis muses, clinging to Harry’s back.

“No,” Harry responds immediately, tightening his grip on Louis.

“Really? Not even of the oral sort? You’ve gotta spread the wealth, H, can’t keep me all to yourself,” Louis mumbles. Harry can feel his smile against his neck.

“Yes I can, and I will. Don't.” Harry warns, his tone slightly hard.

“Fine. But that means I get to keep you to myself,” Louis says. They’re at the table now, most of Harry’s meticulous work scattered about at random by now.

“As long as you're not giving any favors out I don't care.” Harry mutters, letting Louis down onto his feet. Louis nods his agreement, spinning around to examine his choices. He grabs a bottle of vodka and the carton of orange juice and mixes them together in a red cup. Suddenly he whips around, eyes wide but smirk knowing.

“Wait a minute. You don’t want me to have sex with other people. You’re jealous,” He exclaims, like it’s some unimaginable epiphany.

“I don't share.” Harry states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his chin up slightly. Louis leans against the table and sips his drink, smirking up at Harry like he knows a secret.

“What if I told you Zayn and I hook up still?” Louis questions, his eyes sparkling when Harry's jaw tenses.

“Are you?” He asks through clenched teeth, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hmm, I don't think it's any of your business.” Louis replies, shifting a giggle.

“Fine, whatever. Grimshaw’s always down for a bang, so,” Harry fakes nonchalance but his jaw remains tense.

“Well how about you go find him and I'll see what I can do about getting your DD position lifted.” Louis smirks, about to step away but being stopped by Harry's hand grabbing the top of his arm.

“Goddamn it, Louis, I don’t give a fuck about the punishment. If anything I’m grateful for all the hangovers I’m not receiving. Don’t play this game,” Harry says lowly. Louis looks up at Harry through his eyelashes innocently, his mouth turn up in a small smile.

“Don't know what you mean, Harold.”

“I mean,” Harry starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean I don’t want you to blow anybody. Not my brothers, not Zayn, not anybody. You’re right. I’m jealous. Happy?”

Louis pretends to think about it, tilting his head from side to side like he's weighing out his options before replying.

“Well. Okay. As long as you’re admitting I’m right.”

“You're such a little shit,” Harry's says with a shake of his head.

“Don’t pretend you don’t trip over yourself just for the chance to put your dick in me, Styles,” Louis scoffs, already halfway through his drink. Harry can already see a difference in his mannerisms, and he’s thinking Louis probably mixed more vodka than orange juice.

“Now I'm going to go dance, you're not invited.” Louis giggles, pressing a kiss to Harry's lips before he's gone. Harry watches him disappear into the crowd, sighing to himself and turning to the table to grab a bottled water. He makes his way into the kitchen to talk with some of his brothers for a little bit, trying not to scan the crowd for Louis too much.

The next time he sees him Louis is much, much drunker. Harry is watching a couple of boys from the team do a round of shots that they're going to regret later when Louis stumbles into his side, giggling. Harry wraps his arm around the boy's waist instinctively, his head pushing into Harry's chest as he continues to giggle uncontrollably.

“Something funny?” Harry asks, tone amused.

“Your-your-your hair! It's so curly!” Louis gasps, his voice filled with pure happiness.

“That it is,” Harry says, wrapping his other arm around Louis and holding him there.

“I'm trapped! Ohhhh noooo,” Louis sighs, giggles still falling from his lips.

“Shit, you are really drunk,” Harry chuckles. Louis’ flushed and his eyes are glassy, and even standing still he can hardly keep his balance.

“Am not! You're just too sober!” Louis replies, pushing at Harry's chest weakly. Harry silently agrees, rubbing Louis’ back through his sweater absentmindedly.

“You're hands are big.” Louis states, blinking up at Harry.

“They’re not that big. Bigger than yours,” Harry hums, warmth spreading in his chest and belly when Louis grabs one of his arms and presses their palms together, gaping like he never noticed before.

“It's like, a million times bigger, how?” Louis says, his eyes wide as he looks up at Harry for answers.

“Magic,” Harry tells him, laughing. “Or you’re just drunk.”

“Must be magic, will you kiss me? I want kisses.” Louis mumbles, puckering his lips out. Harry leans forward and pecks Louis’ lips once, making him grumble unhappily.

“Moreeee, that wasn't even a proper kiss.” Louis pouts. Harry sighs like it pains him, ducking down once again and kissing Louis, longer this time. When Harry pulls away Louis hums happily, rubbing his face into Harry's chest.

“Harryyyyyy. You’re so - so soft, your shirt is so soft,” Louis mumbles, burrowing into Harry’s shirt.

“You're quite cute like this,” Harry mutters with a small smile. Louis wrinkles his nose, tipping his head back to look at Harry’s face.

“I’m not cute. I’m, like, rugged,” He protests.

“You're definitely cute, I'd even go as far as saying adorable.” Harry responds.

“No, no, nonono. You’re cute. You’re definitely the cutest, and I’m a manly, I’m a man- wait, what were we talking about?” Louis sways a little in Harry’s arms, punctuating his question with a giggle.

“How it's time to head upstairs.” Harry nods, his hands rubbing over Louis’ back till.

“Ooh, you gonna take me to bed, Styles?” Louis giggles.

“No, you're going to lie down.” Harry says with a shake of his head and a small smile. Louis’ grin falters, his lips turning down into a frown.

“Don’ wanna. I’m not that drunk,” He whines.

“Love, you’re plastered.” Harry replies.

“No, you’ll - you’ll take me up there and you won’t even stay and I’ll be lonely and bored and cold and bored,” Louis pouts even harder.

“Who says I won't stay?” Harry questions, trying to spot the tension from the boy’s back.

“You gotta do your - your driving thing. It’s not even ten yet.”

“I'll just tell the boys I don't feel well,” Harry shrugs.

“O-okay,” Louis finally agrees, slumping against Harry’s chest. “Will you carry me though, I don’t - I don’t feel that well.”

“Sure darling, can you wrap your arms around my neck?” Harry asks softly, bending down slightly to pick Louis up. Louis does, but he’s stupid-drunk so it takes a few tries to properly tangle his fingers between Harry’s shoulder blades. Harry hold the boy close, kissing the his cheek as he make his way upstairs.

“Am I heavy? Feel so heavy,” Louis murmurs into his neck.

“You're light as a feather baby, shh.” Harry smiles, unlocking his bedroom door and locking it behind them as they step inside.

“You’re so strong. You’ve got so much…muscleness. Is that a word? Muscleness,” Louis repeats the word under his breath and Harry huffs a laugh, setting him gently on the bed.

“Do you want to change?” Harry questions the boy, stand at the end of the bed as Louis’ lays down on his back.

“Nngh,” Louis responds, stretching out on the bed until he’s starfished across the middle of it. Harry shakes his head with a chuckle, moving closer to unbutton the boy’s jeans for him. Louis hums happily once they’re off his legs, left in his boxers and his sweater and his socks, and Harry decides that’s good enough. Harry crawls into bed next to the boy, Louis curling into his side as soon as his back hits the bed.

“Harry? I don’t wanna go to sleep,” He murmurs into Harry’s neck.

“We don't have to baby, what do you wanna do?” Harry replies, rubbing a hand over Louis’ back.

“Baby,” Louis repeats, giggling. “I like that. Like when you call me that.”

Harry smiles at the boy’s confection, not even realizing he had been calling Louis his baby.

“Yeah, well. I like when you act like it,” He admits.

“You want me to be your baby?” Louis asks, blinking up at Harry with his glazed eyes.

“I think you already are,” Harry answers, far past telling himself that Louis won’t remember his confessions in the morning. He probably will, but Harry finds that he doesn’t mind that much.

“Why couldn't you have wanted this three years ago,” Louis mumbles, resting his head between Harry's arm and his chest. Harry doesn’t get it, eyebrows furrowing.

“Three years ago I was convinced you’d kill me in a fit of rage before I graduated, or vice versa,” He says.

“You hated me, for no good reason, while I was the stupid git that had a crush on you.” Louis huffs. Harry’s arm stills, where he had been absently stroking Louis’ arm.

“You’re kidding,” He says wearily.

“I've liked you since freshman tryouts, but you were so mean to me I didn't know what to do. So I was just mean back.” Louis says, his voice small.

“Shit,” Harry breathes, and his first instinct is to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “I genuinely thought you hated me all along.”

“Well. I didn't.” Louis replies shortly.

“I’m over it now. It’s just weird to think we could’ve solved all this shit so much sooner,” Harry sighs.

“Your fault.” Louis whispers quietly, biting back a small smile.

“I know. All my fault,” Harry grins, pulling Louis fully on top of him and hugging him around the middle. Louis presses his face into Harry's neck happily, leave sweet little kisses on the skin.

“You know what, Tomlinson, you’re not half bad.”

“Took you long enough Styles.”

-

It’s the sixty-seventh annual D1 Championship, and stadium lights have never been so bright. The whole arena is packed to full capacity, fans cheering loudly from both sides as the players enter the final period of the game.

They’re winning four to one, and if they can hold up for just twenty minutes they’re fucking golden, bringing home their first trophy since Harry and Louis have been on the team. They're undefeated this season, their team stronger and closer then ever since Louis and Harry became captains. More importantly, since they became inseparable, practically in sync with each other. They've grown together as teammates and as boyfriends, sickeningly adorable and most of the time overbearing for their friends to watch how in love they are.

Of course their futures are still unwritten. Harry’s being scouted for a fair amount of NHL teams, and Louis too, but recently he’s actually been looking into grad schools, so they’ve got a chance. The two have basically moved into Louis’ flat even though Harry still has a room at the frat house and helps Niall out with presidential duties whenever he can.

So, they’re doing good. Great, even, still high on their relationship even though it’s far from fresh. They spent the summer meeting the parents and practicing together and planning out strategies for the upcoming season.

It’s proved well, considering their phenomenal season and now, their unwavering lead in the championship game. The team manages to score once more before the buzzer goes off to signal the end of the game, the score ending up five to one. Harry can’t even blink before Louis is jumping on him, skates and all, immediately followed by the rest of team hooting and cheering. Harry hugs Louis for all that he's worth, his grin threatening to split his face as the announcer congratulates them on their win and the referee skates out with their trophy in hand.

“That’s fucking right!” Harry hears Niall shouting as they accept their trophy, gripping one of the handles and beaming as they’re photographed. Harry can't take his eyes off of Louis, he thinks he's never seen the boy this happy, practically glowing. He at least manages to wait until they’re in the locker room before he tackles him against a wall and kisses him senseless, ignoring the jeers from the team. When he pulls back Louis is grinning so wide and his eyes are crinkled and Harry ducks back down to kiss him again. Louis laughs into it and they kiss until Niall shoves himself between them and smacks wet kisses on both of their cheeks.

“We fucking won!” Niall screams in both of their faces, smiling so hard. No one is even changing, just hugging and yelling about their victory. Harry doesn't think he's ever seen Coach so proud, not even when Harry and Louis approached him about their relationship and how they have worked everything out between them.

It’s so fucking good to feel like this, with a promising future and a boy to love and be loved by. Coach gives them all a speech about how great they did and how proud he is of every single one of them.

Later the team celebrates the season like always, except this time they have a trophy to display and admire. They are all crowded into the frat house living room, watching the tape from the game with dozens of pizza boxes surrounding them. Harry’s in the armchair, Louis draped across his lap and stealing all the M&M’s from his popcorn.

Harry can't help but shower the boy with small, sweet kisses, his whole body vibrating with happiness. He whispers how proud he is of him, the team oblivious to the two of them in their own little bubble. Louis is beaming at him, hasn't stopped for the better part of the day, and Harry is so in love it hurts. It’s crazy to think how far they’ve come, he never thought he’d look at Louis and see the sun.

“What did that scout say to you after the game?” Louis asks, resting his head on Harry's shoulder.

“Oh, um. It wasn’t a huge deal. He just introduced himself, said he worked for the Kings,” Harry shrugs.

“Have you heard back from the Blackhawks? I know you were interested in them.” Louis hums, his voice just loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Not yet. I’m thinking I won’t until a month or so. What about you? Have you been looking at schools?” Harry links their fingers and Louis rolls his eyes.

“You know I’m waiting for your draft pick so we can move in together.”

“I don't want you to just follow me wherever I get drafted. I want you to go wherever you want.”

“I want to be with you, wanker. I don't care where I get my degree as long as I get it.”

“I love you,” Harry mutters, kissing the boy's cheek. He can’t help but grin, and Louis smiles back, knowing they’re going to make it work.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think and follow me on twitter @lougetsmesohigh


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